Taste
by Casinia
Summary: Harry's a little bit weird, but he's been involved in two wars. What's Ouran's excuse? - AU in HP verse from fifth year, potential slash. Undergoing rewrite, people! Thank you for all your support.
1. Espresso Blood

**Disclaimer: I have nothing to do with either Ouran High School Host Club or Harry Potter.**

**Let the games begin!**

* * *

_**Playing: Keep The Faith – Bon Jovi**_

* * *

**Chapter 1 - Espresso Blood  
**

'Dear Harry,

Sorry about the handwriting. You know that my writing isn't good, and this ink thing just makes it even -'_ There was a huge splodge of ink that obscured the next few words._

'Sorry. The feather thing broke.

I don't know much about owls, I have no idea what to do about... Hedwig, I think? She seems to like it here, Mum gets a bit freaked out when she eats my bacon though. She stays in my room, I think Dad would start attacking her with the broom if she stayed downstairs.

It's probably a bit late to say it, but thanks for, you know, saving my life. Yeah.

Anyway, my parents got me this for my birthday, but what am I gonna do with it? I know that you're fighting that Voldysomething guy, so I reckon you need it more. It's supposed to be pretty good anyway, so yeah. It was Granddad's – our granddad, I mean, Mum's dad. He fought in WWII, so, yeah, he has stuff like this. I have a few of his medals, so if you manage to stay alive, then I suppose you can see them.

Don't tell mum or dad that I sent this to you. Harry Birthday.

Dudley.'

_Harry blinked at the letter, slightly surprised at the piece of parchment that Hedwig had thrown at him, and rubbed his head absently as he picked up the parcel wrapped in brown paper and string that the temperamental owl had also dropped. Dudley sent him a letter? He smiled at the awkwardly written missive, understanding and appreciating Dudley's attempts to reconcile._

"_Well, who was it?" Ron held his hand out expectantly and Harry passed the letter on. "Open the package then, I wanna know what it is."_

_Harry rolled his eyes, but he undid the string anyway and pulled off the paper. When he opened the box, his eyebrows shot up and a mad grin appeared on his face. His friends looked at each other cautiously. "Oh hell yes, Dudley..."_

"_What? What is it?" Hermione jumped off the bed and walked over to the window where he was sitting, and screamed. _

"_A _gun_? You got a _gun_ as a present?"_

"_I know, isn't it great?"_

"No_, you sadist, _no_! Who gets a gun for their seventeenth birthday?" Ginny dragged her chair across the floor to the window, taking Luna, who was sitting on her lap, with her. Fred and George apparated into the room, wearing goggles and lab coats. _

"_Heard you screaming, Granger," said Fred, pulling his goggles off his face and running a stained hand through his hair._

"_Be thankful that the potion is stable, otherwise it'd have exploded the second your dulcet tones rang through the house." Harry raised an eyebrow, wondering what sort of potion they were making, then looked back at the gun he was holding reverently. _I have a gun!

"_So, what's the issue?"_

"_Harry got a bloody gun and will you stop looking so happy, damnit!" Hermione ripped the gun out of his hands, then realised she was holding a gun and dropped it, shrinking away. Harry laughed, and she glared at him._

"_Uh, I think we're missing something here, but–" _

"–_what's a 'gun'?"_

"_I have no idea, but it looks pretty," said Luna, sliding off Ginny's lap and onto the floor, picking up the gun and inadvertently flicking the safety. Hermione yelped and snatched the gun off the blonde girl, flicking the safety again and sighing in relief._

"_It's a dangerous muggle weapon, not a toy. Bloody hell Harry, why are you so happy?"_

"_Becuase I finally have a gun! A gun of my own!" Harry stood up, his eyes shining. "This is amazing, I'm finally gonna be able to train with my own gun, and you guys can learn with me! We can shoot people!"_

_Luna, Ginny and the twins cheered, not quite knowing why they were cheering but liking the sound of shooting people. _

"_I'm going to call her Vera," said Harry dreamily, taking the gun from Hermione's calloused hands and stroking it lovingly. _

"_Oh, hey, the letter's from Dudley! What did he get you then, Harry?" Ron finally looked up from the letter. "Wait, why are the twins here?" Harry gave him a deadpan look._

_Hermione started to bang her head against the wall._

* * *

"Good morning, Bambi!" Harry's eyes snapped open at the sunny tone and the last remnants of his dream faded away. He groaned at the sudden heavy weight on his chest. It was too early for this.

"Get-_off_-you-prat-argh!" The 150 pound man didn't move, instead choosing to cross his arms and jump up and down. Harry swore loudly.

"Oh very mature," said Sirius, tapping his godson's nose.

"You have no right to talk, you're sitting on me! What are you, five?"

"Thirty eight, actually, it was my birthday in June. What kind of godson are you?"

"Shut up, the only reason you know my birthday is because you have it tattooed on your arm."

Sirius raised his hands and grinned sheepishly. "Guilty as charged," said the man, still not moving from his godson's bed.

Harry shoved Sirius off, ignoring the man's yelp as his face hit the floor. He wearily pushed his blankets away and stood up, stretching. "What time is it?"

"7:50 in the morning, so you've got plenty of time to get ready for your new school!" Sirius rolled on the floor so that he was facing up. He punched at the ceiling heartily and watched with mischievous grey eyes as his godson pulled a pair of clean grey trousers and a crisp white shirt out of his wardrobe.

"You're too cheerful for a Monday morning," said Harry lethargically. "Now get out, I need to get changed." Harry held open his door in an obvious gesture.

"Fine, I know when I'm not wanted. I'll get started on breakfast," replied Sirius, shoving his hands in his pockets and striding out into the hallway.

"Don't you dare, you'll put cyanide into it," Harry glared at him as he closed the door, remembering Sirius's disastrous attempts at cooking.

"Character building!" retorted the older man, laughing. He pushed the door to the kitchen and pulled out a frying pan. Sirius opened the fridge and gazed with wonder at the wide array of food – he still hadn't gotten used to muggle technology. Bacon sounded good to him, so he pulled out the pack and chucked it onto the table. He switched on the radio and grinned at the sound of Mozart – Remus must have come home last night.

Things hadn't always been this perfect. Here in Japan, the mismatched, dysfunctional family of three were happy, but in Britain, things had been very different. The world had been in war ever since 19 June, three years ago – the day after the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. Harry had been right in the middle of it, with most of the world sticking him on a pedestal in the hope that he would save the world. He had risen to the challenge admirably, leading the DA and somehow managing to stay alive throughout Voldemort's attacks. The wizarding world had been shocked at the devastating damage the group of teenagers had left in their wake, and a little bit horrified at the scale of destruction that muggle warfare led to.

The war had left them all damaged, but they managed to get through in their own way, developing quirks that kept them all relatively sane. The change from war to peacetime was difficult but manageable, and they still cultivated the skills and abilities that they had discovered in the wartime. Sirius and Remus had never been prouder of the teenagers that had managed to find their calling and with such finesse too.

"Something's burning," said Harry blandly, looking down and fixing his striped tie as he walked into the kitchen. Sirius snapped out of his musing and looked back down at the frying pan, where the six raw rashers of bacon had turned into black crisps stuck to the surface. He cursed, and quickly turned off the cooker. Sirius pulled the kitchen knife out of the drawer and began the difficult task of scraping the burnt food off the pan.

"Damn..."

"I told you not to cook; you haven't got the hang of Muggle cooking yet." Harry's voice was muffled as he bent over to take out another pan from the cupboard. "Where's Vera?"

"She's in the fridge, why?" Sirius paused in his labour to frown at his godson.

"I had a dream about getting her, I think it means something." With one shoe on and the other being tied at the same time, Harry awkwardly hopped his way to the fridge and pulled out Vera, wiping off the cold moisture. He shoved the Colt M1911 down the back of his trousers and shivered at the sudden cold that ran up his spine.

"Finally listening to Luna, huh? If you're taking Vera, then stick Tony in the fridge instead." Harry did as Sirius said and pulled out one of the guns from the spices cupboard and put it in the fridge instead.

"I always listen to Luna," said Harry grinning, and Sirius laughed. The odd blonde girl had always had a strong ability in Divination, something that bothered Hermione, who still thought of the subject as useless. Even so, Luna had told Harry to pay attention to his dreams on many occasions, threatening his manly parts with various pointy objects until he agreed. "Should I make bacon, then?"

"Yep, Moony's back and you know how much he needs meat after a full moon."

"Fair enough, can you make the tea?"

"Which one, the Japanese have loads."

"Uh, green should be fine."

Ten minutes passed comfortably in relative silence, as the bacon sizzled and the water boiled. Before long a bedraggled, exhausted Remus dragged himself into the kitchen, his nose twitching at the scent of meat. He flopped into the chair and slumped over the table, his hand grabbing at the cup that Sirius laid in front of him. Chucking a piece of newly made toast at his godfather, Harry chewed his own toast slowly and grinned at the sight of a dishevelled Remus, who was normally cool and composed. He ignored the twinge of sympathy at the new lacerations on his bare arm. Remus hated pity, and his wounds would soon be cleaned anyway.

A loud clink brought Remus's attention away from the steaming tea to the bacon sandwich that had been plonked in front of him, and he smiled wearily at the boy who was nothing less than his nephew. Sirius ruffled the messy sandy hair on his head and he coughed angrily, his throat too raw to do anything else. Harry took the seat next to him and opened the health kit that was constantly being added to, pulling out some cotton balls and a bottle of muggle antiseptic. Remus had found that muggle medicine worked best when it came to him, because his lycanthropy had changed his body so that it rejected any sort of magic – in fact, magic often made the wound or the illness worse. The only reason Wolfsbane worked was because it was completely made out of 'muggle' elements, there was no magic in the potion. He winced at the sharp sting from the antiseptic, and smiled as Harry hastily apologised. That boy was far too responsible.

"It's our little boy's first day of school, Remus!" Sirius exclaimed in a high falsetto, and Remus smirked at the boy sitting next to him, knowing what pun was coming next. "Ickle Harry's all grown up, well, not grown _up_–"

Harry threw the tub of burn cream at him, and Sirius ducked, laughing. "Screw you, Padfoot, stop making fun of my height."

"But it's too easy!" Harry had only grown six inches since Sirius had first seen him out of Azkaban, which meant that Harry stood at a diminutive 5'4" – something which bothered him immensely. Ron, Sirius and the twins towered over him, and took great pleasure in using his head as an arm rest. Even Hermione and Ginny were taller than him – only Luna was shorter than him, by just half an inch, which she solved easily by wearing three inch red heels that Ginny had bought for her – something Harry couldn't get away with doing. "Anyway, once you're done with Remus's wounds, he'll take you to Ouran."

Remus's head snapped round to stare at the dog animagus in confusion. "What?" he croaked out.

"Well, I'm not taking him! He'll contaminate my car with his virgin germs." Remus groaned and Harry complained loudly.

"Oh come on, just because I'm not a manwhore like you!"

"I'm not a manwhore, I've just been cursed with an asexual godson. Help me out here Remus!"

"No," said Remus, his throat feeling a little better with every sip of green tea he took. Merlin, the Japanese were geniuses. "That's the lamest excuse I've ever heard, you're taking him to school."

"You take him!"

"I get a taxi to work, and besides, the hospital is in the complete opposite direction! The police station is in Bunkyo, at least."

"It's fine," said Harry shutting the medical kit with a snap. "I'll walk." He shrunk away from their combined glares as they stopped arguing to stare at him in horror.

"It's raining buckets Harry; you're not walking in this weather."

"Bambi, it's tipping it down outside, and those are brand new shoes, you're not ruining them! Do you know how much they cost?"

"You'll catch a cold, and you're not taking anymore Pepper-Up, not after all the late nights you've had – you'll never sleep again."

"20,800 yen! Italian leather, Harry, do you know how hard it is to clean?"

"Alright, alright!" Harry raised his hands in surrender and grinned at their overbearing mothering. "I won't walk then."

Remus stopped glaring at Harry, instead turning his sight to Sirius. Sirius flinched under what he had dubbed the Death Glare, something which Remus, Lily and Hermione had all mastered. "Ok, ok, I'll take him to school!"

The werewolf smiled into his teacup as Sirius moaned. "Damnit Remus, I hate you! If I come back a virgin, I'm blaming you."

"Whatever you say, Padfoot. Now get going, it's 8:15, and your school starts at 8:30. Go to Teuchi's after school, I'll meet you there."

"Ok, bye Remus!" The werewolf waved tiredly at Harry as he left the kitchen, followed by Sirius, who was tying the laces on his shoes.

"Have you got everything, then?" Sirius rifled through his pocket and fished out his car keys in triumph. He tossed them in the air and caught them again.

"Yep."

"Blazer? Bag? Wallet?" Harry showed him each of the items in affirmation.

"Yep, yep and yep."

"Let's go then! Excited?" said Sirius as he shoved his godson through the open door frame. He laughed at Harry's protests at being manhandled. They made their way down the apartment stairs, pushing and shoving each other.

"Not really," said Harry, once he was strapped into the car. Sirius started up the car and pulled out smoothly, making his way onto the main road and to Ouran Academy. Harry reached over and switched on the music player, letting AC/DC fill the car. Sirius's love of classic rock had never abated, and he had converted Harry with him. "I'll stick out like a wizard at King's Cross Station. It's a school for rich people, and I'm still not used to being rich."

"Well, I am," Harry snorted at the less-than-modest statement, "and let me tell you, a lot of rich people are very interesting. They can afford to be eccentric, and word-play is nothing for them. They have to be careful about what they say, and each word has about ten different meanings, it makes them entertaining to talk to. Besides, Ouran is a school of elitism and lineage, not just money. Apparently yakuza heirs are in the school, though they are in the lower classes."

"Wait, you mean yakuza, as in, crime syndicates?"

"Exactly."

"Whoa..." Harry sat in stunned silence. "That's amazing."

"I know, right? Ouran isn't just for rich people, in the same way Hogwarts isn't just for purebloods."

"Right..." Harry suddenly felt bad for grouping all the students into one category. It had been unintentional, but it was the same sort of thing that he hated. "Damn, I'm stupid."

"Yes you are, but in this case it excusable, it's a new school, in a new country, and besides, you only really had the chairman and the principal as examples of what Ouran was like. You just need to make sure that you figure out what all of Ouran is like. There are four sets of classes, remember–"

"– A, B, C and D, right. Each student is placed accordingly based on their lineage, wealth, status and intelligence."

"... Merlin, you spend too much time with Remus, that came straight from the prospectus."

"Screw you."

"Right. You're in 3-A, but 3-D probably has very different people in it. Get to know everyone."

"Easier said than done," shrugged Harry. "A year of living in remote places has done nothing for my social skills."

There was a pause, then, "That was part of the reason we stopped moving." Harry looked at his godfather, confused.

"Eh?"

"You're eighteen, it's an impressionable age. Neither of us wanted you to spend the rest of your life running from fans and Death Eaters, it's not ideal."

"It worked for me."

"Now, maybe, but not forever. You already left the DA behind, and you can't keep running." Harry was silent, contemplating Sirius's words. "Harry?"

"No, it's fine, you're right. I understand. You wanted me to have a life, right?"

"Right. Your social skills are shot to hell right now, but you can change that. It's doubtful you could do that if you were any older. This way, you can stop running."

The two fell silent, letting the rock music fly over them. Sirius suddenly laughed. "Damn, I'm no good at this sort of stuff, Remus was supposed to explain this."

"Was Remus supposed to give me the Talk as well?" said Harry cheekily. Sirius chuckled, remembering the red face that they both sported.

"Speaking of, why haven't you gotten started on your birthday present yet?" Harry groaned, and slammed his head against the tinted window. For his eighteenth, Sirius had very kindly given his godson a leather jacket, and wand holster and three boxes of condoms. Harry had tried to burn the condoms but they had stayed intact.

"Shut up, you pervert."

"I mean it! Some of those high school girls look amazing, you should be getting busy Bambi! I know I was when I was your age."

"Merlin, if you weren't driving right now I would punch in the face." Sirius sniggered.

"I know, that's why I'm saying this now. So, how do you like the uniform?" Harry gave his godfather a flat stare.

"Don't patronise me, you git." Sirius grinned, remembering Harry's very vocal complaints about the showy baby blue blazers. Remus had agreed with Harry's argument that he'd be seen from a mile away, but had soon reminded him that the only other choice was the girls' uniform, and Sirius showed him a picture of the dresses that resembled lemon meringues. Harry had shut up after that.

"Right, technical stuff. Go through the main entrance when you get there, the reception should be right there. Tell them your name and they'll give you your timetable. Ask for a map, it's a pretty big place."

"I'll be fine, I got through Hogwarts, didn't I?"

"With Hermione's help."

"... Shut up."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Harry felt a familiar tingle in his stomach as Sirius pulled up near the ornate gates of Ouran Academy. Sirius was right, the place was huge, but he knew that it was actually four schools – Elementary, Middle School, High School and College. He would be in his last year of High School here. Harry undid his seatbelt and stepped out the car, slinging his backpack across his shoulders. He sighed. "Why is the school pink?"

Sirius pulled away, laughing. "Have a good day, Bambi!"

* * *

"Class 3-A, this is your new classmate, Potter Harry." Harry tried not to wilt under the curious gazes of thirty new faces. They all looked quite pleasant, but Harry wondered what they were really thinking. He gave them a rigid smile, and winced when he heard a few dreamy sighs. More than a few of the girls in his class looked starry-eyed, which bothered him quite a bit, but at least it wasn't because of his name – they were starry-eyed before the teacher introduced him.

"He looks nice, Takashi," whispered a small boy clutching a large pink plush bunny. He sat near the back of the class, so his comment was all but unheard, except to a tall boy with dark spiky hair sitting next to him.

"Aah," said the young man that the boy had called Takashi. The new student looked accustomed to, albeit weary of, the female attention that his appearance had resulted in.

"There's an empty seat near the back, you can sit there." He looked where the teacher had pointed and hid a grin when he saw that to the left of the desk sat a boy who was a head less than Harry's height – finally, somebody who was shorter than him! His gaze went further left and his inner euphoria disappeared with a flash. That boy was nearly as tall as _Ron_, if not the same height. Harry sighed and manoeuvred his way through the rows of desks, dropping his backpack onto the desk the teacher had pointed out. He pulled out his pencil case and a fresh notebook, and slumped into the chair as if he was boneless. He quickly scrawled down the date and prepared for an everyday lesson in statistics.

It was as boring as he had suspected. Mentally, he drew parallels between his new maths teacher and the late Professor Sprout – both homely, sweet women who loved their subject. Still, maths had never interested him; it had always taken several promises of new weapons from Remus to even get him to think about simultaneous equations and like terms. It had always been Hermione's area of expertise, arithmancy was her favourite subject.

The classroom was pretty nice – there was a blackboard and an electronic whiteboard next to it, which Harry remembered from his days in primary school. The desks were laid out in uniform rows, and they were very sturdy as well – they all looked brand new. In the height of his boredom, he would probably end up drawing on his desk. The door was easy to get to, and the windows looked as if they were made from toughened glass, which was a feature Harry hadn't expected. Maybe the crazy anglophile principal that Harry hadn't exactly been impressed by got something right after all.

Harry answered questions when required, but didn't take many notes – instead he used his notebook to doodle aimlessly, drawing snitches and various people ingesting various pranks, courtesy of Weasley Wizarding Wheezes – Canary Creams, Puking Pastilles and Nosebleed Nougats were only a few of the things he subjected his poor drawings to.

"Class is over, Potter-san, you can stop pretending to pay attention now." An unexpected shadow covered his notebook, and Harry looked up to see the small boy that had sat next to him standing in front of desk. He wasn't the cause of the shadow, though – it was the freakishly tall boy that had sat right next to window obscuring his view. He flushed as he realised what the boy had said, and looked around to see that class was indeed over.

"Ah, thank you for telling me," said Harry in fluent Japanese. Languages had always come easily to Harry, and it helped that Luna had forced Remus and Sirius to learn Japanese with him for a reason that she didn't quite explain back when he was sixteen.

"It's ok, that's what classmates do!" The small boy had a very pleasant disposition, and Harry couldn't help but be slightly cheered up. For some reason, he was holding a pink plush bunny that was nearly as big as him, but Harry couldn't judge him – Charlie Weasley had an obsession with dragons, and baby dragons often found his ginger hair to be a suitable place for a nap. Compared to dragons, plush bunnies were harmless. "That's an interesting name, Potter-san, where are you from?"

"I'm from England," said Harry, inwardly marvelling at his ability not to stutter. He managed to stop his awkwardness at even having the conversation from shining through every word he said, but it must have been at least partially noticeable, because the small boy (whose name he _still_ hadn't asked) frowned.

"Do you not like talking, Potter-san?"

"Uh, it's a bit... unfamiliar..." said Harry edgily. Merlin, he was such an idiot. Why was he even here? There was no way he'd be able to get past his gracelessness.

"That's ok!" said the small boy cheerfully, much to Harry's surprise. His entire expression lightened again, and Harry swore he could see flowers surrounding him. "Takashi doesn't like talking much either, do you?" he said to the tall boy standing behind him, who had remained silently impassive throughout the entire conversation.

"Aah," the tall boy said, and when he said nothing after his one word Harry realised why the small boy had been so unperturbed at his unquiet. He gave them a tight smile, still not completely comfortable around the cheerful boy and his silent counterpart.

"Thank you for telling me about class ending," said Harry, abruptly standing up and shoving his notebook into his bag along with his pencil case, taking no notice of the boy's surprised expression. He made his way out of the classroom and sighed, relieved to be out of the limelight.. He paused, realising too late that his hasty ending of their conversation probably seemed very rude. Harry shrugged, and carried on walking to his next class.

* * *

It was lunch, and Harry was very close to walking out of the door and running back to the apartment.

It had been a year since he had attended school. He had been very happy being homeschooled, but he knew that if he was to become a permanent citizen, then it would help if he actually got a social life. It was difficult, though. Harry had never been very sociable, preferring to sit on the sidelines and listen to the conversations around him. It had always been Sirius and to some extent Remus who talked to people. When they had been travelling, it had just been the three of them and some parchment for letters. He didn't _do_ talking. He wasn't that sort of person, he just didn't know what to say. He preferred listening.

Of course, being thrust into a school full of students looking to make contacts for the future was not very sensible. Every time he stepped out into the hallway, there were at least a dozen people saying hello and waving. He couldn't help his sudden tensing, but he waved back anyway, knowing that if he did it would seem rude – he didn't want a repeat of this morning, thank you very much. He had received three love letters from girls that he had only seen once. _Once_, on his first day here. It worried him that these girls would pour their hearts out to somebody they had never talked to.

Perhaps he should have gone to that magical school instead.

Harry's stomach protested at his heavy thinking, and he promptly speared a piece of haddock from his chosen 'Set A Meal'. Harry loved food. Back when he had still lived with the Dursleys, cooking had been his escape, his way of winning against them. Aunt Petunia often forced him to cook, but she wasn't really forcing him, because he would have done it willingly. After the war, his love for cooking intensified, becoming an outlet for him to remain sane. He enjoyed cooking – there was something magical about discovering new tastes and understanding the different ingredients and measurements. In a way, it was just like making potions, and though his experience with potions had been marred by Severus Snape, he still loved cooking.

He put the fish in his mouth, and paused. That... was good food. Flavours exploded in his mouth, setting his taste buds alight. Merlin, he would have to try making this, it was too good not to try. He took the fork out of his mouth, but froze when he felt a familiar shiver run across the back of his neck. Somebody was staring at him.

Harry opened his eyes – when had he closed them? – to glare at the guilty party. It was a group of boys wearing khaki – the two boys from his class were sitting with them – on the table to his right. A chill ran down his spine and he fought the urge to check that Vera was still in his waistband. _Damn it Harry, not everybody's hostile_, said the sane, civilian part of his mind. The War of Terror, as muggles had taken to calling the Second Wizarding War, had been horrible, and had done nothing good for a growing teenage boy who had been thrust right in the middle of it. Harry had been left paranoid and unsociable, with a tendency to distrust everybody new. Only his family and those he had fought alongside were not victim to his cold, unfriendly manner, but it was only natural for him to look for potential escape routes and weaknesses in everybody he met.

The only reason he hadn't pulled out Vera by now and shot them all in the knees was because he was trying not to gain any attention, and shooting a group of boys that had the undivided attention of a lot of the girls in the canteen seemed contradictory.

_Merlin, I need help_, thought Harry sadly as he looked back down at his plate. His appetite was nearly completely gone. He sighed and picked up his tray, taking it to the lunch lady near the door. He shoved his hands in his pockets and made his way to his class, the slight good mood that had surfaced from his lunch all but gone.

* * *

"Did you _see_ that, Tono?" whispered Hikaru furtively. "That was the creepiest stare ever!"

"He's right," Kaoru agreed, "that guy's weird. _And_ he's British."

Kyoya turned a page of his notebook, and scribbled something down. "Kaoru is correct, there's a very good chance that Potter-san was evacuated along with most of Britain during the War of Terror."

"But that probably gives him an edge!" squealed Tamaki. "The war-hardened teenager, he probably has scars! He'll be a huge hit with the ladies."

"I don't know, he didn't really like talking, and Hosts have to do that a lot..." Hani played with the icing on his cupcake, and Mori gave him a concerned look, which looked just like his other looks.

"It would be a waste to have him in the club if he didn't talk. He would scare away all the customers." A glint of light obscured Kyoya's eyes from view, and the Host Club shivered at the Cool Type's cold dismissal of the new student.

"...well, what else do you know about Potter-san?" Hikaru took a long drink from his cup.

Kyoya pushed his glasses up, his displeasure clear in his voice. "There wasn't much information on him, nor his family. He lives with his godfather, Black Sirius, and a family friend, Lupin Remus."

"Black..." muttered Tamaki thoughtfully. "I recognise that name..."

"You would. The Noble House of Black is extremely powerful, with enough money to buy a small country. Their lineage dates back to the twelfth century, and they are connected to English royalty. Black-san is the last remaining Black, and is the Head. I assume his godson is his heir. The Potters are not quite as impressive, but they also have a large fortune, with high involvement in genetics and law enforcement. Potter-san is the only Potter left."

The Host Club sat in stunned silence. Potter-san was the heir to such a prestigious line, as well as his own? Then Tamaki remembered the rest of Kyoya's information.

"What about the other, Lupin Remus? You said he had two guardians."

"I did. Lupin-san is a commoner. He has no pedigree to speak of, nor any fortune. He works in a private hospital."

"He has a job?"

"As does Black-san, he works as part of an elite police force. There wasn't much information on that either."

"... I'm kinda intimidated about asking him to join the Host Club," said Hikaru slowly. Kaoru nodded.

"Then we won't ask him," Tamaki decided.

"What? But you spent ages screaming about getting him to join!"

"We're even wearing khaki! Who wears khaki to lunch?" Hikaru and Kaoru stood up in unison, taking their trays with them. Tamaki ran after them, and Kyoya followed at a more leisurely pace. Mori waited for Hani to finish off his cake before following the rest of the Host Club, and all the while, the rest of the school stared in awe and wondered why the Host Club was wearing khaki.

"No no no, you've got it all wrong. _We_ won't ask him."

"Eh?" said the twins in sync.

"We'll get a rumour going around that we're asking Potter-san to join, and then when he hears it he'll be so enchanted by the idea that he'll join!" Tamaki struck a pose, confident that his plan would work.

"Your plan stinks," deadpanned Hikaru and Kaoru with bored looks on their face. Tamaki slammed back into the wall, suddenly depressed. "Hey Kaoru, I have an idea! Let's get a rumour going around that we want Potter-san to join the Host Club. Then when he hears, he'll be curious and we can drag him in!" Tamaki started to grow mushrooms, and several girls clustered around him to see what was wrong.

"Brilliant idea!" The two redheads began whispering loud enough for the girls gathered around Tamaki to perk up and notice what they were saying. Potter-san, the moody British boy, join the Host Club? This was definitely worth spreading.

"Now now, Hikaru, Kaoru, let's not get ahead of ourselves," said Kyoya with an wicked smile, a glint on his glasses. His hands caught the shoulders of the twins, who audibly gulped and looked up at him cautiously. The rest of the Host Club winced. "Who gave you permission to spread that rumour?"

* * *

"Harry-san, that's a very nice uniform! New school?" The owner of the cafe that was named after him smiled as Harry pushed open the door to Teuchi's.

"Yep," said Harry, worn out from his first day of school. He pulled out his usual chair at the table in the corner near the counter, and slumped forward, dropping his head into his arms. Teuchi laughed.

Teuchi's was a place that he visited often, whenever he wanted to get away from the bustling street life of Bunkyo. Teuchi's was one of the places that served food, and though it wasn't unique in catering to magical folk as well as muggles, Harry spent a lot time there nearly every day. When Sirius had first brought Harry here, he had been apprehensive, convinced that Teuchi and his daughter Ayame who waitressed, wanted something from him. Sirius dragged him out of the apartment every day after their first meeting, and before long, Harry had realised that Teuchi and Ayame were honest civilians, and they wanted nothing from him apart from his money.

Teuchi's was comfortable, and neither Remus nor Sirius did any work at home – instead they had a table in the corner where they always worked, stocking up with caffeine whilst they slaved away at paperwork. It was generally quiet in Teuchi's and the people were pleasant, which was why Harry often came with his guardians. It was a good way for him to get out of the apartment.

"So, you ordering anything today?" Harry peeked through his curtain of black hair to see Ayame, the only waitress who worked in the cafe. Teuchi's was strictly a family business, and Teuchi's wife, before she had gotten ill, refused to hire anyone else, as Ayame often despaired to him on her break. She was a pretty girl, as Sirius had noticed, and she had expertly warded off both his attempts to flirt with her and set her up with Harry.

"No way, you money thieving hag," said Harry with a tired grin on his face. Ayame hit him with her notebook and stalked off, a wide smile on her face.

Harry nodded off for a while after that. The day had been tiring – after his sparse lunch where his appetite had disappeared, Harry had noticed that he was getting a lot more looks from the girls, and they were whispering something about a Host Club, whatever that was. He had sat through History and English trying not to twitch as he felt their stares. He had practically ran out of the school when the bell had rung, remembering to go to Teuchi's, which he knew wasn't far from Ouran.

A bell jingled as the door opened and Harry looked up to see Remus walk in, carrying a briefcase. "Good afternoon, Ayame-san," said the sandy-haired man. The young woman turned from where she was mopping up a bit of Espresso Blood that one of the nightly vampire customers had spilt to see Remus and Harry grinned when he saw a faint dusting of pink appear on her cheeks. Remus pulled out the chair opposite and sat down smoothly, looking much better than he did in the morning.

"H-hello Remus-san, can I get you anything?"

"A cup of mocha would be nice. Heavy on the chocolate, please." Harry rolled his eyes at Remus, knowing very well how much he loved chocolate. He pulled himself upright and kicked Remus's leg when he started to pull out papers from his briefcase.

"You're looking better."

"What can I say, helping people feel better makes me feel good. How was your day?"

"...weird."

"Oh? How so? Thank you," said Remus with a smile, looking up at the young woman who had just handed him a steaming mug. She blushed and quickly walked away to the room behind the counter. Teuchi grinned at his blushing daughter.

"I'd forgotten how odd it is to be surrounded by civilians, Remus." Remus put down his paperwork and looked at Harry seriously. "At lunch, a group of boys were all staring at me, and I had to stop myself from pulling out Vera."

"Oh, so you took Vera to school? I thought it was Sirius," said Remus lightly, looking back at his paperwork. He pulled out a pen from his pocket and started to write.

"Remus, be serious!"

"But I'm Remus, I can't be Sirius." Harry glared at him, and Remus chuckled, still not looking up.

"I could have killed them! I could have shot them all!"

"No, you couldn't have. You have very good instincts, Harry, but even you would balk at shooting civilians. You're too good for that." Remus took a sip from his cup and smiled at Harry's disbelieving expression. "I doubt even the Imperius could force you to kill innocents."

"You have too much faith in me, Moony. What if something does happen? Maybe today I didn't, but what about tomorrow? Those triggers you talked about, what if somebody sets it off? What if I do accidently hurt someone?"

"Then, like you said, it'll be accidental. The Japanese won't hold it against you, war leaves scars and even if Japan doesn't participate in wars anymore, they still know what it's like. And we're working on the triggers."

There was silence for a few minutes, apart from the scratching of Remus's ballpoint pen, then Harry quietly said, "Thanks, Remus."

"No need to thank me, Harry. Now, what about the rest of your day?"

"Eh. Not nearly as bad as Hogwarts, but there were still a lot of people staring. French was pretty fun, but I fell asleep in History."

"Harry! You didn't actually fall asleep, did you?" Teuchi glanced over the counter and smiled at his favourite customers.

"The teacher is just like Binns, I swear!" Harry raised his hands defensively, grinning widely.

Remus pointed at him with his pen. "I bet you were the only who fell asleep. Tell me I'm wrong, Harry."

Harry shrunk into his seat, and Teuchi hid his laugh. "... Maybe."

"Merlin Harry, we said you wouldn't do this! We agreed you'd pay attention."

"I do pay attention! Just... not in History." Remus glared at him. "Or Maths. And I might have stopped listening in Spanish as well."

"Harry!"

"I'm sorry!"

"This behaviour will stop, Harry! If I get any messages telling me that you fall asleep, or that you don't pay attention, then I will confiscate Sting," said the man firmly, ignoring Harry's horror struck expression at the idea of confiscating the sword that Sirius had started to train him with.

"Ok, ok! I won't fall asleep!"

"And paying attention?"

"... I'll do that too." Remus hid a smile at Harry's surrender. The next few minutes passed in silence as Remus continued with his paperwork and Harry pulled out his notebook filled with the doodles that he had made in his boredom. He had drawn his History teacher merged together with a cat, and the result had been spectacular. He had also drawn a few more snitches and now he drew Remus, hard at work with the coffee cup next to him. He had just finished shading the cup when he remembered something. "Hey Remus?"

"...yes?" The werewolf didn't look up from his paperwork, making his voice slightly stifled.

"What's a host club?" Remus spat out the mocha he had just drank, and the brown liquid covered his paperwork. He cursed, and Teuchi popped his head around the doorframe at the sound of the normally mild man swearing. Remus pulled out his wand, quickly vanishing the coffee and dried the paper. "It's just that a lot of girls were whispering about a host club in our school, and about them wanted me join to join, and I wanted to know what it was."

Remus froze, then laughed. "I could have sworn you just said that there was a host club in your school and they wanted you to join."

Harry blinked, then slowly said, "I did say that Remus. Why, is it something bad?"

"It's... well, it's a place where people are entertained." Harry's eyes widened. "Not like that, but I think that happens sometimes. They – the hosts I mean – they talk to the customers and try and keep them happy. Female hosts are called hostesses, but I'm guessing the club at your school is mainly male."

"Oh... I see why you were so surprised now. I'm a bit freaked out myself. How d'you know this?"

"A lot of them get alcohol poisoning, so I treat a few of them. They're all quite lovely, really, and apparently hosting isn't that bad. I'm assuming the host club is your school entertains the ladies."

"Yeah, the hosts are really popular. The girls never shut up about them. I think the chairman's son is a host." A familiar tingle in Harry's stomach jolted him, and he sat upright. "We need to go to a host club," he declared suddenly.

"_What?!_" Thankfully Remus wasn't drinking anything at that moment, or he'd have spat that out too.

"We need to go to a host club. Or a hostess club, it doesn't matter." Harry quickly stood up and pulled out a few hundred yen. He dropped them onto the empty counter and started to shove Remus's papers into his briefcase.

"I think it does Harry! Why do we need to go all of a–" Remus froze when Harry came close, his face inches away.

"All I know is that my magic is telling me that Luna will kill us if we don't go to a host club _now._" Remus didn't move for a few second, then stood up with the same speed as Harry.

"Can't argue with that. Merlin, I do _not_ want Luna on my back again..." He packed his things away with a speed to rival a sprinter and they ran out of the cafe, sure that Luna would somehow find out if Harry ignored his magic again. Ayame poked her head around the doorframe at the sound of the bell to see the cafe was suddenly empty and she frowned. They hadn't even said goodbye.

* * *

_**Playing: Dream On – Aerosmith**_

* * *

**Haha, it's done! Honestly, I'm a little bit sick of seeing this chapter, I've been writing it for a long time. Believe it or not, I had about 4000 words extra that I cut out. *sighs***

**It's a AU from the battle in the Department of Mysteries, which explains why Sirius is still alive, but the rest of Harry's life is very different. The war was international and a lot worse, leaving Harry a war-torn teen. His friends are affected just as much, which is why they seem so OOC. Harry's a bit of a Sasuke right now, but don't worry, he'll get better.  
**

**I'm pretty new to Ouran fanfiction, so if I make mistakes, please correct me! I'm about half way through the manga (I'm just met Kasanoda and Tetsuya, who reminds me of Remus) but I have finished the anime, I'm ok with Ouran knowledge. **

**Japan, though... I'm English, so if you could help me out with Japanese culture and things like that, it'd be great. I'm a horrible procrastinator, so it'll be a while till the next chapter, but stick with me, we'll get there. Motivation would be very helpful!**

**I've thrown in two very different references in here, I think – what are they?**

**QUESTION: Easy one to start with – if your wardrobe was burning, what's the one item you would save? By wardrobe, I mean anything you keep in your wardrobe (I mean, I keep a clock and my books in my wardrobe).**

**-Cas**


	2. Ogden's Best Firewhisky

**Thank you to everyone who followed, favourited and reviewed, I was blown away by the response. I love you guys.**

**Disclaimer: I have nothing to do with either Ouran High School Host Club or Harry Potter.**

**Let the games begin!**

* * *

_**Playing: Toes – Lights**_

* * *

**Chapter Two – Ogden's Best Firewhisky**

There were neon signs everywhere, and yet all Remus could see was the sign for Club Sakura. There seemed to be something enchanting about it, and Remus suspected that there was magic on that sign – magic designed to bring in customers.

"There's magic on the sign for Club Sakura," said Remus to the boy that was walking alongside him. It had been fairly easy to find the red-light district, Kabukicho; Sirius had mentioned it a lot when he talked about the cases he had worked with in the police station. Remus was surprised to see tourists even at this hour – the sky was getting darker and the lights were turning on. The streets were fairly packed, but Harry made sure that he touched nobody, being far too used to people trying to stab him.

Harry looked up to see the dusky pink sign of a hostess club hanging not too far ahead, and he cast a wandless detection spell – something Remus had forced him to learn in case he wanted to see if an enemy was hiding amongst muggles. Yep, there was definitely magic on the sign, meaning there were probably witches in there.

"Maybe that's the place, then." Harry's magic tingled again when he passed the door of the building – something that hadn't happened when he had passed other host and hostess clubs. "Definitely the place, I can feel it." He doubled back, looking behind him to make sure Remus was still following him, and pushed the door open. A heady scent of wine and incense hit him in the face, and he breathed deeply. Remus sniffed cautiously, and smirked.

"I can smell magic in the air as well." They both pulled out their wands simultaneously.

They walked up the stairs, being cautious about what they touched. Harry flinched at every sound, and Remus laid a hand on his arm to reassure him. There were rooms everywhere, but the doors were shut. A quick detection spell revealed to Harry that it was a good thing the doors were shut. Before long they had come to a room with the same pink sign that had hung outside attached next to the door. Harry pushed open the door warily and Remus turned around to watch the stairs, covering his charge's back. They walked into a large, elegantly furnished room.

The room was lit with blue recessed lights in the ceiling, creating an ethereal, chilled atmosphere. There was a bar near the opposite wall, and a door leading out behind it. The room was filled with tables and a group of five women, all various ages, were clustered in the middle, talking and drinking. They didn't look dangerous, though Harry had seen Luna use heels smaller than some of the ones the women were wearing to kill her enemies. There was a window on the wall, but it had bars running across like many other windows in the building. The window was covered by thin curtains, and the tables had glass cups dotted on them.

"Well, aren't you a bit young?" Harry turned to see a woman wearing a white shirt and a black pencil skirt get out from her chair and walk towards them. His wand automatically slid back into his arm holster before the woman could see it, and he guessed that Remus's wand did the same thing – they were from the same maker after all. He heard Remus gulp next to him, and he knew exactly why. The woman walking towards them had the same sort of presence that Cho or Ginny had – perfectly aware of the power her femininity had. Ginny had been someone who made herself seem innocent before attacking the enemy and Cho had used her feminine wiles to seduce the enemy and lower their guard before stabbing them. Both had been absolutely terrifying, and both had used their femininity as a weapon.

She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms. The woman was svelte, with dark shiny hair up in an elegant hairstyle and pursed lips painted a femme fatale red. She seemed to be in her mid-twenties, and towered over Harry, like most women did. There was a faint trail of magic following her – she was probably related to someone with magic. The trail wasn't nearly strong enough for her to be magical herself. "What's a school boy doing in a place like this? It's not exactly a playground." Her tone wasn't mocking – rather, it was teasing whilst still being curious. She seemed slightly protective, her body subconsciously angled to stop him from walking any further into the room. It was likely that she was the manager of Club Sakura.

"My name's Haru," said Harry, shoving his hands in his pockets. He was in a situation where he wouldn't get in trouble for not telling the truth. He felt Remus' hand grip his shoulder, though not as tightly as he would have if Harry was in trouble. "As for why I'm here, ever ignored a seer before?"

The woman paled – definitely some experience with seers. "I'm guessing you're a wizard then?"

"Yes, he is, as am I," said Remus with a serene smile, stepping forward and sticking his hand out. "Lupin Remus, I'm his guardian. We were told to come here." Remus didn't tell her who told them to come here but the woman shook his hand and smiled demurely anyway, the colour restored to her face. Harry rolled his eyes – Remus couldn't help but charm everyone he met.

"Oh, where are my manners, my name is Akemi. Welcome to Club Sakura, I'll introduce you to the girls." Akemi turned on her heel and strode towards the gaggle of girls laughing in the middle of the room. Remus walked behind her and Harry followed, slightly confused as to why she suddenly accepted them. They could have been lying about being told to come to Club Sakura, but she still let them come in.

A few of the girls turned at the sound of Akemi's heels clicking on the hard floor, and a girl with cropped blond hair stood up. "Who are they, mama-san?" said the girl with a slow, lilting voice. She couldn't have been more than nineteen, and she didn't look Japanese at all – Harry heard a little bit of French in her accent.

"Haru-san and Remus-san, they're wizards. And..." Akemi pulled out a bottle of whisky from behind the bar and poured herself a shot, swirling the amber liquid, and then walked over to where Remus and Harry were standing, "they've been sent here by a seer."

Two of the girls gasped and the rest _oohed_ in sympathy. Harry could see magic trailing around each of the girls as well, some stronger than others. The French girl had a trail of magic that was closest to a witch, and it had the same sort of flavour that the sign gave. "Gentlemen," said Akemi, glancing back at the two males behind her, "these are my girls. And I'm telling you now, hurt them and I'll rip your balls off – regardless of how much you pay us." Harry snorted and Remus blinked, not expecting such crude language from someone who charmed money out of their customers. The other hostesses grinned and laughed, used to the spiel of their manager.

"This is Ariane," Akemi gestured to the French girl, who gave them a smile, "Hina, Nanami, Keiko and Evita. Alice is in the back room with a customer." Harry was slightly surprised at how well Akemi could pronounce the non-Japanese names. The hostesses were all good-looking, but in their own way – a good mix of hostesses. Hina was possibly shorter than Harry (she was wearing huge heels so it was hard for him to tell), with a sort of baby-faced, fresh innocence. Ariane had pale skin, cold blue eyes and ice-blonde hair – she looked very European. Evita seemed extremely Spanish, with dark, thick curly hair, chocolate skin and warm brown eyes. Keiko had a mischievous glint in her grey eyes that reminded Harry of Fred and George, and Nanami had the brightest smile he had ever seen. "How long has Alice got left?"

"Only about a few minutes or so left," said Keiko with a frown, gesturing to the door Harry had seen behind the bar. "She'll be out soon, I'll get her a drink." The young woman walked behind the bar and pulled out a bright amber bottle, pouring into a glass. Akemi turned back to the two men after carefully watching to see if anything went wrong with the alcohol.

"We'll get you sorted with hostesses then. Ariane, if you would..." Ariane nodded and strode over to them, tilting her head. Harry felt a brush against his mind and he raised an eyebrow, pushing the presence out. Ariane grinned, the smile on her face a sharp contrast to the harsh features.

"I apologise Haru-san, Legilimency is how we find the best match for our clients. Japanese laws prevent us from using it maliciously, but we usually never have the chance to ask for permission. I got enough from the few seconds, anyway. You'd be best matched with mama-san." Akemi laughed.

"Remus-san, would you mind if I used Legilimency, or would you rather I didn't?" Remus pursed his lips. He didn't think his mind was a suitable place for anyone, let alone a young witch. Besides, he was pretty sure that his lycanthropy would tear her mind to shreds, and he didn't want that.

"I think it would be best if you didn't use Legilimency, Ariane-san." The French girl smiled at Remus's polite nature, and looked over at the woman behind the bar who poured another glass for herself.

"Very well, I think your hostess match would be Keiko." Akemi looked at her assigned customer and smirked, her cool demeanour not shifting. Keiko walked away from the bar and led Remus to a table by his hand, grinning mischievously. Akemi didn't touch Harry, but led him to a table as well. Good manners dictated Harry to pulling out Akemi's chair, and his hostess laughed, taking the chair.

"So, Haru-san, you were sent here by a seer then?"

"Yes," said Harry flatly. Akemi seemed nice, but she was an absolute stranger, in a dodgy profession. Akemi raised an eyebrow at the long silence that followed his words and his uneasy manner, but her expression soon cleared. She leaned forward, looking down at her whisky.

"Hmm. Do you know why you were sent here?" Harry sighed inwardly. He had been thinking about it ever since his magic had tingled, but he still wasn't sure. The only thing he was vaguely certain of was that it had something to do with the host club in his school – he felt his magic straight after that conversation.

"Not really," Harry's voice was level.

"Well, maybe it's because you need to talk to people." Harry raised his eyebrows. "You don't seem like a very social person, and if I know anything about seers it's that they do what they think is best for you. This seer, probably wanted you to make friends. You're not Japanese, are you?" Akemi's voice was soft, but smooth – she didn't want to hurt his feelings.

"I'm English," said Harry, considering her point. Maybe she was right – after all, he had come to Japan to finally have a life, and he had to admit it, he wouldn't make friends willingly. He was far too paranoid for that.

"And you're Harry Potter." Harry gave her a sharp look, and Akemi snorted in a very unladylike way. "Oh please, I'd have to be an absolute retard not to recognise a famous face like you."

"...you're a witch then?" Harry was _sure_ she wasn't, magic that unconnected to her would have ripped apart her body by now. It was unlikely that he was wrong – Harry winced at how arrogant he sounded.

"No, but my brother's an Auror. He told us about the work you and your friends have done towards killing the bastard that took over Britain. Not a lot of Japan would recognise you though; the Prime Minister did a lot to make sure your face was out of the public eye. The police force knows because it's their job to make sure nothing happens to you."

"I can protect myself," said Harry, narrowing his eyes. It seemed Remus and Sirius had used the '_oh, my godson is Harry-freaking-Potter, did you know?_' that they said they 'didn't usually pull' – and they said they just _happened_ to find a place in Japan.

"It's also their job that nothing happens if say, one of the most powerful people on the planet finally loses his grip and goes on a massive killing spree," Akemi continued, as if he had never interrupted. "After all, Harry Potter is very proficient with muggle combat and managed to defeat Lord Voldemort – they have to be prepared, you see." She took a sip from her whisky and looked up at Harry, her dark eyes piercing.

"So you think I'm going to commit homicide?"

"Probably, yeah," said the older woman bluntly. Harry clenched his fist under the table, his nails digging into the palm of his hand. What was she saying – was he not safe around other people? He had worried about slipping up and accidently hurting someone, but could he kill anyone? He'd done it before, but those people had killed innocents and they had enjoyed it.

"That could be the reason the seer sent you here. Hosts and hostesses, it's our job to listen. We're pretty useless if the customer doesn't like to talk, but we generally get sent customers when their friends and family want them to talk. We're therapists, but we're good looking and we let you drink as much alcohol as you want, which is better really."

Harry couldn't help but crack a small smile. Sirius would agree with the theory that alcohol made everything better.

"There you go! You're smiling now! One step closer to not losing it. The seer probably sent you here to make sure you didn't become a raging maniac, and let me tell you, if I've learnt anything from my brother it's that murderers are generally loners. They have nobody to bring them back from the brink."

The sound of the door behind the bar swinging open pulled Akemi's attention away from Harry's intense stare to the middle-aged, well dressed man that walked out, followed by a young woman with long brown hair and large old-fashioned glasses. She smiled at the man and led him out of Club Sakura, but as soon as the door had closed behind her expression fell and she slumped against the wall, falling down and collapsing into a heap. Akemi frowned, but her dismayed expression lessened slightly when Hina and Nanami pulled the slender girl up onto her feet and gently dropped her onto the plush sofa up in the corner, hidden by shelves of bottles. Evita hurried over to the barely conscious girl, forcing her to take the glass filled with alcohol that Keiko had handed to her and watching eagle-eyed as she slowly sipped at it. She placed the empty tumbler on the floor next to where Ariane had placed the girl's shoes.

"That's Alice, our youngest hostess. A customer paid a lot of money to get her in the back room, and we wouldn't have let her done it if she hadn't needed the money so badly." Akemi didn't look away from the haggard girl, watching with pursed lips as the hostesses that didn't have customers took of her makeup and undid her hair, making sure not to disturb the sleeping girl.

The scent was dulled with the smell of alcohol, but Harry could sense a strange, polluted trail of magic wrapped tightly around the girl's magical core, a taint he knew well.

"She's a werewolf," said Harry matter-of-factly, looking at the dark circles under her eyes that had been hidden by a layer of makeup that had been gently wiped away. Under the lipstick her lips had been bitten and torn, and scratches that adorned her pale arms were revealed as the hostesses took of her thick cardigan.

Akemi looked at him, her face stern. "She is. Alice is the baby of our group, and we'd do anything for her. She doesn't accept our money, but we'd do anything to get her out of this place."

"Why don't you then?"

"We're trying, but it's difficult. The world of the red-light district, it's... clingy. Like most of the girls here, Alice did some things when she was desperate, and, well, once you've done what you had to, they'll never let you do what you want to. I don't think you'll understand, but it's the life of the whorehouse," said Akemi bitterly, draining her glass and knocking it onto the table. Harry didn't flinch. "I'm here to do what I can for these girls, because if they're gonna have to go into the business, then I'll do my damn best to make sure I protect them."

Harry gave a small, hidden smile. He'd been wondering why the sister of a policeman would be in a hostess club, but now that he knew her goal, he couldn't help but admire her. He personally didn't know, but in the back of his mind he could remember what Remus was like when he had to infiltrate the underground in Britain. For Akemi to do the same thing, when she was a civilian, with no magic – it was extraordinary.

"My school has a Host Club," Harry blurted out, then flushed as he realised what he had done. Why had he felt the need to tell her that? It wasn't as if she needed or wanted to know.

A slow smile made its way onto Akemi's face, and Harry fought not to twitch under her heavy gaze. "I don't think your school's Host Club is anything like the red-light district host clubs. It'd be pretty hard for them to get away with that. The hosts, they probably just talk to the customers, like we're doing now. None of that back room stuff, and I doubt they have drinks as well." Akemi waved her empty glass, gesturing as she spoke. "That's the Ouran uniform, isn't it?"

Harry gave a slow nod, wondering how much he knew about him.

"Relax, I'm not stalking you. Ouran's one of the most well-known schools in Tokyo, and you could recognise that uniform from a mile away." Harry tried not to scream his agreement. Who the heck designed such awful uniforms?

Akemi swirled the last dregs of the whisky in her tumbler, grinning. "I think I've heard of this 'Ouran Host Club', it's in the high school section, isn't it?"

"Probably." Harry still knew nothing about the Host Club, excepting the whispers from the school girls, who seemed just as obsessive over the hosts (specifically the chairman's son) as his fans were over him. They seemed to be school idols – the short boy and his tall counterpart who had been called Takashi were apparently hosts in this host club. He could see how the short boy was a host, but the tall boy seemed far too silent to make conversation. The small boy had even said that Takashi didn't like talking. Maybe the host club was varied in the hosts' personalities – it would certainly attract more customers.

"Oh, it's very famous around here," said Akemi with a grin. "A few of the other host and hostess clubs think it's degrading, but most find it _cute_."

"What about you?"

Akemi hid a smile – it seemed her quiet customer was opening up, finally.

"I find it hilarious personally – a group of rich wannabe playboys, trying to imitate the red-light district? I'd love to visit, just to see how much I could fluster them. I heard they entertain the girls in their school, so I doubt they'd know what to do around girls like us." Harry had a small grin on his face, and he examined his hands to hide it.

"You're probably right."

"Can I ask why you brought it up?"

Harry made a face, and Akemi raised an eyebrow. That was the most emotion she had seen from him in their entire fifteen minute conversation. "They want me to join."

Akemi's mouth dropped open, and Harry fought not to twitch uncomfortably. She blinked, and Harry couldn't help but compare her to a goldfish. Her expression cleared suddenly, and she leaned across the table and drew close to his face. Harry recoiled, and his head banged against the wall. She frowned in deep thought, examining Harry with an intensity that made him blush. "Hmm, I can see why."

"...what d'you mean, why?" She could she why they wanted him to join the Host Club? What the hell?

"Well, you're not bad looking." Harry flushed. "No, seriously! I know everyone obsesses over them, but your eyes really are stunning, I've never seen green eyes that bright before. And the black hair isn't too unusual in Japan, but yours has unruliness to it, a sort of I-just-had-sex look-"

"Ok, you can stop there," said Harry awkwardly. He was starting to see Akemi as a female, Japanese version of Sirius.

"-and the glasses actually suit you, you'd be surprised how many people wear horrible glasses, and even if you are short, a lot of people find it cute, especially high school girls. They'll probably enjoy trying to get you to open up and stop being moody, and-"

"Stop, Akemi-san!" Akemi laughed, throwing her head back when she saw Harry's red face. It had been such a long time since she had spoken with high school boys; it was such a refreshing change from the rich older men she usually hosted.

"Alright, alright, I'll stop. I'm sure you get enough of that from your fans." Akemi didn't see Harry's barely visible shudder. "But can you see what I mean now? I've always heard that rich people are incredibly forward, so I wouldn't be too surprised that they asked you."

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, and listened to the sounds of the hostess club at work. It was quite empty, with Remus and Harry being the only customers. Alice was still comatose on the sofa, but someone had placed a light blue blanket on her. Keiko was flirting and giggling with Remus, whose face had turned a bright red. The other hostesses were gathered around the sofa, talking quietly with drinks in their hands, watching over Alice. Evita was running her hands through her brown hair, and Nanami was humming something that sounded like a lullaby. Akemi smiled, then turned back to her customer.

"You thinking of joining?"

"No." Akemi blinked at Harry's blunt refusal, frowning at the boy who hadn't looked away from the hostesses.

"Why not? You'll get to talk to people." Harry turned his head back to Akemi, giving her a flat stare. "...ok, that wasn't the best selling point. But it is good to talk to people! Don't give me that look, I mean it! We decided that the seer sent you here so you could meet with people-"

"I didn't agree with you, you came up with that on your own." Akemi ploughed on as if Harry hadn't interrupted her, and he snorted. He turned away from her again, looking at Remus drop his head onto his arms as Keiko laughed at him. Akemi didn't see the slight loosening of his expression.

"-and I doubt you'd ever meet as many people on your own than if you were in a host club."

"I don't want to talk to people, Akemi-san."

Akemi hmmed in agreement. "Ok then, don't join the host club. But talk to people! I mean it, you have to promise me." Harry stayed silent. "Haru-san?"

"...we have to go now." Harry stood up abruptly, and Akemi's hopeful gaze disappeared. She stood up, a smooth look on her face and the same sly smile she had when they first met playing on her lips. Her heels tapped against the floor as she led Harry to Remus's table. She hid a grin at Keiko's enthusiastic conversation, easily moving away from her wild gestures before she hit her.

"-you have to take her by the hands, and you pull her close and you give her the best kiss of her life! And it doesn't _matter_ if she's seeing someone – you try and show her how you feel!"

"Keiko." The hostess looked up and blinked owlishly.

"Ah, is it time to go already? I was having so much fun..."

"I know honey, but it's getting dark, and you're taking Alice home." Keiko's face lit up as she looked at the still slumbering girl, a tender look appearing on her face.

"Yeah... Remus-san, think about what I said, yeah?" Remus nodded, a small smile on his face. The half-hour with Keiko had been confusing but fun; she had a sort of natural charisma that made up for her uneducated manner and lack of sophistication. She jumped up, somehow not tripping in her huge purple heels as she ran over to where her coat was hanging. Akemi turned away from the hostess and sat on the table, crossing her legs. Harry was starting to hate the smirk on her face – it didn't suit her.

"Now, let's talk about payment." Harry and Remus looked at each other. They'd forgotten about payment, choosing to get to the hostess club before Luna somehow realised that Harry wasn't listening to his magic. And they only ever had enough on them for a few coffees and a taxi home. "We charge pretty steep prices, but if you can't pay upfront, which I'm guessing you can't, we accept... other payments."

Remus raised an eyebrow. "What... sort of payment?" Akemi snorted, a horrible sound that grated on their eardrums.

"Not the sort you're thinking. I meant favours, or other things that would be valuable to us." A tingle shot up Harry's spine, and he took a few seconds to think. Other things that would be valuable...

Harry pulled out Vera, and ignored Akemi's sharp intake. In one smooth moment, he had removed a bullet and replaced Vera, sticking out his open hand, where the glowing blue light lit up his palm.

"Ultraviolet ammunition with a silver nitrate core and wrapped with a dozen penetrating offensive spells. Enough to take out an adult troll, but we couldn't attach the Firestorm spell, so it won't destroy Inferi." Akemi blinked, and Remus smiled at Harry's initiative. He hardly ever gave Vera's bullets away, not when they were so rare.

"Take the bullet, Akemi-san. It's best to be prepared for anything." Akemi took the bullet carefully, the blue light shining in her face as she examined it closely.

"I'm not going to ask how you made this but it will definitely pay for both of your sessions." Akemi smirked, all business, but Remus could see the genuine shock and pleasure in her face.

"That girl on the couch," Remus said cautiously. Akemi looked up from the bullet and frowned at Remus, who hid a grin at her over protectiveness. "She's like me – a werewolf. Isn't she?" Akemi's eyes widened. "But she hasn't been to the clinic yet, it's killing her."

Akemi pursed her lips. "She can't go to the hospital, they'll think she rat them out." Remus didn't ask who the 'they' was, instead choosing to shrug on his coat.

"I'm a doctor at the clinic, I'll bring her some medicine and bandages."

"What? No, we can't accept that." Akemi glared at him. "We don't need charity here."

"It's not charity," said Remus with a gentle but understanding smile. "You ready?" Harry nodded, slinging his bag over his shoulder again. Akemi bit her lip. They made to leave, but then everything went wrong when Akemi reached out and took Harry's wrist.

Remus opened his mouth and reached out to pull her away but it was too late. In less than a second, Harry had spun around and reversed Akemi's grip so that he was the one holding her wrist, and slammed her against the wall, her arm pinned above her head in a bruising grip. Her head bounced against the wall painfully, and the pins in her hair pulling her hair. A sharp pressure on her windpipe drew her attention away from the blinding pain at the back of her head to Harry's wand pressing against her throat. The stars in her eyes weren't enough to distract her from the cold, uncaring look in his eyes, he wasn't even thinking anymore. She froze when she saw the pure animalistic subconscious drive, telling him to kill her _now_, to incapacitate her before she could touch him again –

And then it disappeared, giving way to a look of horror and self disgust that marred his features. He drew back, and with nothing holding her up anymore, Akemi slumped to the floor, her legs unwilling to support her weight anymore. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hina and Nanami rush to help her up, but she could only see her customer stare at his hands. Remus ran over to her, and she flinched at the cold hands that undid her hair.

"Relax Akemi-san, I need to make sure that you're ok." She nodded numbly, and relaxed at the soothing wave of magic running across the back of her head. Her eyes closed out of reflex, so she didn't see Harry disapparate out of the hostess club, but she sighed at the loud crack anyway.

"Girls, it's ok, it's my fault. Go check on Alice. Make sure she gets to the car ok." Hina frowned, and Nanami sighed, standing up.

"Maa, you always have the interesting customers..." Akemi gave a weak smile, and heard them walk away. Her smile dropped, and she clenched her fist.

"I forgot he was a soldier..."

Remus smiled, his hand gently pressing her head. "I had a feeling you knew about him. Don't take it personally; he's still very much in war mode. It's difficult for him in particular."

"I know, I didn't want to set him off." A comfortable silence passed, and Remus slowly helped Akemi sit up, making her against the wall. "... He's not well, is he?"

A pause, then – "No, he's not."

"And it's not physical, otherwise you'd have cured him of that. That's why you became a doctor, isn't it?"

Remus gave a low chuckle, then sat next to Akemi, his legs crossed whilst hers were straight out in front of her. "You're very astute, Akemi-san."

"You didn't answer the question."

"... I should have chosen to be a psychiatrist if I really wanted to help him."

"Remus-san, I realised that the seer he mentioned sent him here because if he stays and isolated himself from everyone like this, he'll drive himself insane."

"I know."

"Then why aren't you doing anything about it?" she said angrily. She still couldn't muster enough strength to open her eyes, but if she did she would have stared at the man next to her, hoping for some answers. Anything that made sense.

"We... we can't physically force him to talk to people. But we can encourage him, put him in situations where it would help him. He left behind a lot in England, but he knew it was for the best – in a way, he's more mature and selfless than most of us adults. But he missed out on being a teenager, which is why we enrolled him in high school – a place where he wouldn't have us to hide behind. The most we could do was drag him out of hiding and make him stay with us here, in Japan. It's not a lot, but it's all we can do."

Akemi paused, then let out a breathless laugh. "You're a smart man, Remus-san."

"Thank you."

"But... do me a favour?" She heard several footsteps, and a few gentle pats on her head with the sound of the door swinging shut told her that the hostesses were leaving. The quiet sound of breathing next to her told her that she wasn't talking to herself.

"I'll try."

"Make him join a club."

Remus paused and furrowed his eyebrows, confused.

"In our conversation," she explained, "he brought up the host club at his school. He didn't want to join, but it made me realise that clubs would be a good way for him to socialise with people. I think there's a magic club at Ouran, I'm not sure, but people with similar interests would be good friends. He's lonely right now – he has you, but he left everything in England, didn't he? All those famous friends, they're not here with him. I'm pretty sure they're coping as well; it's just Haru-san. So you have to put extra effort into making sure he's ok."

"... I'll try."

She smiled gently. "That's all I can ask for. Now get outta here, because I know you don't have money to pay for any more time here."

Remus laughed, and a quiet crack told her she was alone. She opened her eyes to an empty room, and looked down at the bullet that had fallen to the floor.

* * *

The sharp crack of apparation rang through the apartment, and Harry fell to his knees, his head spinning. He hated apparation, hated it more than floo travel and portkeys. The disorientating teleportation always left Harry feeling sick, which was why he always travelled using muggle methods if he had a choice.

He pulled himself up using the door frame, reining in the churning of his stomach – was that hunger or queasiness? _Queasiness, definitely queasiness_, he decided, running upstairs to his room. He quickly changed, taking off his blazer and haphazardly throwing his shirt and trousers into his wardrobe. He pulled open his cupboard, chucking Vera inside, and pulled out one of the numerous purple vials, cursing the shaking of his hands – unused adrenaline.

He moaned, clutching his throbbing head as he mentally yanked the wards up to accept only him and his guardians. What the hell was wrong with him? Even his own body couldn't stand him. He fell backwards onto his bed, clad in nothing but his boxers, and he burrowed himself into the blankets, trying not to scream. The unopened vial was still clutched in his fist.

Remus had put too much trust into him _again_. Why couldn't he see that Harry was going to hurt people? He didn't want to, oh Merlin he didn't want to, but he couldn't stop. He saw things in the corner of his eye, no food he hadn't had checked was safe, every touch was aimed to kill him – he was still battle ready. He was still battle ready, _a year after the battle had ended_. Everyone else had adjusted, albeit with difficulty – why couldn't he? Why couldn't he be normal? Why couldn't Fate just leave him alone?

He choked back a sob, and painstakingly unscrewed the cap to the vial. Fuck the side effects; he knew he'd have horrible nightmares after a relapse like this. He downed the Sleep Potion in one gulp, and the glass bottle fell to the floor, shattering as it slipped out of his limp grasp.

He didn't hear the quiet crack downstairs, signalling Remus's return, and thought nothing when the door to his bedroom opened, revealing the pensive werewolf. Remus sighed and pulled out wand, repairing the shattered glass vial next to his bed. A quick sniff told him that it was Sleep Potion, and Remus grimaced. Harry was getting far too dependent on it. He looked at the slumbering boy wrapped in blankets and half hanging off the bed, and gave a sad smile. He really was just a boy.

He sat on the bed, and pulled Harry's head onto his lap, removing the glasses that were digging into his face and running his fingers through his hair, quashing the sudden anger he felt. He should have been there for Harry before this all, before Harry was thrust into another way. No matter. He was here now, which was the best he could manage.

He sat in silence for a long time, still running his fingers through his hair, and thought of nothing. After an hour or two, he heard the front door open, and relaxed at the familiar taste of Sirius's magic. The black-haired man tromped up the stairs, and looked as if he would scream something when he burst in through Harry's door, but fell silent when he saw Harry sleeping sounding with his head on Remus's lap. He raised an eyebrow.

"He had another relapse today," said Remus in explanation, speaking softly. He knew that Harry wouldn't wake for another twelve hours, judging by the size of the vial, but he didn't want to risk it.

"Oh," said Sirius sombrely, then he smirked. "Good thing I brought this then!" said the man triumphantly, pulling a bottle of Ogden's Best Firewhisky from behind him. Remus laughed. "I was planning to celebrate his first day of school tonight, but it looks like it's just the two of us, Moony."

Sirius conjured up two glasses, and filled them to the top with the amber liquid. He carefully sat next to Remus and passed one of the glasses, pulling his legs up but removing his shoes after Remus glared at him.

"So, what happened then? Or did he not tell you?"

Remus sighed. "I was there."

"Eh?"

"It didn't happen at school."

"Not at Teuchi's?" he said with a frown. He liked the cafe, he didn't want to get banned.

"Let me finish, Padfoot. We were at a hostess club-" If Harry had been awake, Sirius would have made a big fuss and several dirty jokes, but he stayed silent, instead choosing to grin lecherously, which Remus ignored. "-because Harry's magic nearly dragged him there, and one of the hostesses took his wrist."

Sirius whistled lowly. "_Damn_... what was the damage?"

"Not too bad, she banged her head against the wall but there was no concussion, and she'll have bruises on her wrist in the morning, but she'll be fine. She knew who we were though, she wasn't surprised that Harry had lashed out. Looked a lot like Yuki, as well."

"Yuki in the police force? He lives with his sister, actually, so that might explain it."

There was comfortable silence for a while, then Remus spoke again. "The hostess, she wanted me to do her a favour."

"Whoa, hold up Remus, I thought you were into-"

"Shut up, not that kind of favour." Remus tapped Sirius's head with the glass, and the black haired man giggled. "She wanted me to convince Harry to join a club."

"Club?"

"Club. It's a way for him to socialise. Meet people who have the same interests. We both know he wouldn't go out of his way to talk to anyone, so going to a club would be the next best thing. It'd look good on his resume as well, shows he's an outgoing person."

"...but he's not an outgoing person."

"Nobody needs to know that. So, tomorrow, convince him to join a club." Sirius grimaced.

"It'd be easier to convince him to wear the girl's uniform. Why do I always get the difficult jobs?" he whined.

Remus gave him the Death Stare. "I gave him The Talk, Sirius. You have _no right_ to complain." Sirius choked back a laugh, knowing that Remus would hit him over the head again. "So, how was your day?"

Sirius leaned back against the wall, making sure his godson didn't stir. "Well, someone tried to hack the police database today..."

The night went by, and the two friends stayed up, talking, drinking and watching their young charge.

* * *

_**Playing: Let It All Out – Miho Fukuhara**_

* * *

**In answer to my own question, I would save my Slytherin jumper, because it's the only thing I can't buy again – it was hand knitted by my friend's mum.**

**January's closing, and the snow in England's been beautiful, we even got a few days off school for it. How's 2013 been for you guys? I'd love to hear.**

**And poor Harry. I love him so much, but he's just so easy to torture. For those who don't like OCs, I'll try keeping them to a minimum, and they won't ever be a big part of the story. **

**There were three references in the last chapter, I was a bit surprised with the small number of people who got some. Well done to Ashley Reveur and ReaperLuci for noticed the Firefly, Naruto and Lord of the Rings references. There's another in this chapter, to a film.**

**QUESTION: If you could recommend one song, what would it be? I'll try and have a listen, so think deep, readers!**

**Till next time, **

– **Cas**


	3. Pancakes

**Disclaimer: I have nothing to do with either Ouran High School Host Club or Harry Potter.**

**Let the games begin!**

* * *

_**Playing: Tell Me Goodbye – BIGBANG**_

* * *

**Chapter Three – Pancakes**

Harry slowly opened his bleary eyes to the blurred green ceiling of his bedroom. He was content to lie in his tangled sheets and run a hand through his messy hair. A slit of bright light shone through the gap between the thick curtains, illuminating the shoes he had kicked off last night. Last night...

The memories of the torturous day at his new school and the disastrous events at Club Sakura came flooding back, leaving his legs feeling as if they were made out of lead. He rolled around in his sheets and planted his face into his pillow, groaning. _Kill me now, God._

A quiet rapping on the door made him lift his head up and reach blindly for his glasses on his bedside table. Funny, he didn't remember putting them there – but he was too tired to think properly. Maybe later. He turned to look at Remus, who had popped his head through the doorway, and raised a black eyebrow at the smudge of chocolate sauce on the werewolf's nose. Remus grinned.

"Get up lazy bones, we're making pancakes," said the man cheerfully, and Harry flopped back onto the bed. He was _not_ a morning person. The man hopped out of the room, and Harry listened absently to the sound of Remus's brogues tap away as he thought about pancakes.

Pancakes, like lots of other food in the Black household, had a unique, special meaning – 'we love you'. It wasn't always cooked at breakfast, just after a horrible event that had someone doubting themselves. Usually Harry did the cooking (Sirius poured poison into the meals far too often and Remus couldn't stand the overpowering scents in the kitchen) but pancakes was one meal they couldn't mess up too badly. The half hour of cooking and relaxed meal at the table was a good way for the three to strengthen their bonds.

It was also a good way for Remus to get his daily fix of chocolate.

He rolled out of bed, hitting the cold floor and lying there for a few seconds before he managed to drag himself up. He recognised this boneless lethargy – it was the come down from Sleep Potion, something he had been using too often. He looked up at his table and saw an empty glass vial, and sighed. He didn't remember putting the vial on the table either.

A few minutes passed as Harry slumped to the bathroom and had an ice-cold shower, unknowingly entertaining his guardians with his yelps, and he left the bathroom refreshed and awake. He quickly got changed and cautiously peeked into the kitchen, wondering what the damage would be. Harry didn't bother hiding his snort.

Sirius looked as if a bag of flour had been dropped on his head – his blue shirt had white streaks all over it, and his hair was nearly completely white. He blinked with difficulty, and grinned at Harry as he carefully stepped around the shattered eggs on the floor, his teeth matching the flour on his face and his blue eyes twinkling. Harry took off his blazer, hiding it behind the door – as much as he hated the colour he really didn't want to have waste time cleaning the blasted thing. He looked at Remus, who was sitting on the counter next to the sink and eating melting chocolate straight from the bowl with a wooden spoon.

"What?" he said defensively when Harry raised an eyebrow. "It's Belgian."

"Right." A quick look at the half-eaten doughnut clock hanging on the wall told him he had plenty of time before school. He rubbed his hands together – the only thing better than cooking was quidditch. "Seeing as Sirius has wasted all the flour-" he ignored Sirius's indignant yelp "-we'll have to use the new packet, which means that someone will have to buy some more flour."

"We can get it when we're in Shirai," piped up Remus, putting down the half-empty bowl of chocolate and hopping off the counter. Harry frowned.

"We're going to Shirai?"

"Not today, don't worry – maybe this weekend. We'll stop off at the Post Owls if you want." Harry nodded absently.

"Ok then, do we still have eggs, or did you break them all?" Sirius was already looking into the fridge, dusting the flour out of his hair.

"Uh, we have two that aren't cooked." Harry didn't question why they had cooked eggs in the fridge, instead pulling out a clean bowl and another wooden spoon. They quickly settled into a routine, dancing around the mess the adults had made as they tried to make pancakes that were edible.

They hadn't had pancakes in such a long time, because there hadn't been a bad event in a long time – Harry hadn't relapsed, Remus hadn't had nightmares and Sirius hadn't destroyed their current home since they were in Finland. It just happened to be that pancakes were there to counter bad events. Still, Harry couldn't help but cheer up whilst cooking them. Cooking had always been fun, but pancakes even more so – there was a certain pleasure to be gained watching Sirius try to flip a pancake without hitting himself.

Before long the three sat around the table with plates stacked high with pancakes. Sirius had changed his shirt and cleaned his hair, looking a bit more respectable. He had taken a variety of toppings with him, and was hoarding the sugar and the lemon juice. Remus had hit him with a spoon when he tried to take the chocolate sauce as well, and Harry was content with his maple syrup. They ate at a leisurely pace, making sure they enjoyed the pancakes they had worked so hard on – but as soon as Sirius had finished his pancakes, he had grabbed Harry's blazer and his school bag, and dragged Harry out of the door, saying nothing other than, "We'redoneseeyaRemuswe'llwalkyoucantakethecarbyeee!"

Remus rested his head on his hand, smiling impishly. Sirius must have decided that now was a good time to talk to Harry about his relapse. Remus couldn't argue with his logic – the pancakes would have helped him relax so he might be more open, but it could also leave him tired and worn out before a day at school. Still, no matter when Sirius talked to him, it would have to be done.

Remus stared at the single pancake remaining on Harry's plate, then shrugged and pulled it towards him, reaching for the chocolate sauce. _Waste not want not._

* * *

"Hey!" Harry wrested his wrist from Sirius's grip as he moved to the side of the corridor to let a boy wearing the same Ouran uniform walk past – _hey, wasn't she supposed to be a girl?_ – and glared daggers at his godfather, who laughed. "I wasn't done! What's with the rush?"

Sirius walked down the stairs of the apartment block, making sure his godson was following him, albeit reluctantly. "We're walking to school," said the older man, sticking his hands in his pockets and looking up the clear sky. It had been raining for most of yesterday, clearing up only at the end of the day. Today's sunshine was a welcome change. "It's a nice day, why not?"

Harry frowned. Whilst Sirius did prefer walking to taking the car, he seemed far too casual for it to be just a simple walk. "OK, out with it."

Sirius gave him a confused look. "Huh?"

"Don't give me that, you know exactly what I mean. What is it you wanted to say?"

Sirius held his confused expression for a second longer, then dropped it, sighing. They had reached the bottom of the stairs, and even at this early hour, people were going about their day to day business. They could see shops opening in the street and cars driving past. He sat down heavily on the bottom step and after a moment of hesitation Harry joined him. "Alright, alright. You're not coping Harry."

Harry tensed, but continued walking as if what Sirius had just said didn't faze him. Sirius looked at him, a sad look on his face.

"We found the empty vial on the floor last night."

Harry gave a visible jerk, and Sirius rested his large hand Harry's trembling shoulder, the blue fabric soft beneath his hand.

"Harry, why didn't you tell us you can't sleep? Addiction's a serious thing! I know you have Sleep Potions after magical theory nights, but we've haven't had those in a week. If it's serious, we can call Luna-"

"_No!_" Sirius stilled at Harry's outburst, but he refused to move his hand from his godson's shoulder. "Don't… don't call Luna." Sirius gave Harry a sad look that he didn't see. Harry truly loved Luna, he really did – but the blonde girl reminded him of a darker time in his life, one where he lashed out and throttled everyone with his uncontrollably wild magic. She had been the only one who could help him, but even that only worked somewhat when Harry's magic was tainted by death already.

"Fine," said the older man shortly, hoping that his godson would take his eyes off the trees and _look_ at him, "but just this once. I'll call her myself if I have to Harry."

They sat in silence for a few moments, Harry unwilling to move. Sirius ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even further.

"So, about this relapse."

Harry jolted. "You know about that?"

Sirius snorted, giving his godson a stern look. "Please Harry, I may not act like it but I _am_ one of your guardians. It's my job to know these things."

Cars passed on the street in front of them. Gradually it became busier and busier, with more and more people leaving for school and work. Harry twisted his hands in agitation, but he didn't say anything, preferring to take off his glasses and occupied himself with them. Sirius counted the clouds in the sky, trying not to focus on the downcast boy next to him. He pressed his face against the cold metal railing of the steps. The tension was killing him.

"... I didn't mean to hurt her." Sirius didn't turn his head, knowing it would bother his godson. Instead he snuck a look out of the corners of his eyes, frowning when he saw that Harry still hadn't looked up.

"I'm sure you didn't," said Sirius easily, as if his heart wasn't pounding. He wasn't the speech type of parent! That was Remus – he was the beat-sense-into-everyone kind of guy. "But it still happened. We need to prevent that from happening, for your sake, as well as all the people you'll meet."

Harry looked up, his face screwed up in worry, and Sirius grinned. "We don't think you'll ever intentionally hurt someone who doesn't deserve it, and we're not saying that's wrong either. But people like that hostess – they don't want to hurt you. You need to be able to recognise that. We need to teach you."

Harry bit the inside of his cheek, and rapped his fingers on the stone floor thoughtfully. "How?"

"By beating the crap out of you, of course!" Harry glared at his grinning godfather. "I mean physical training!"

"Yeah, yeah..." Harry looked at the sky. "I kinda missed it actually."

"You missed being black and blue?"

"I _meant_ I missed training. I know I'm learning how to used swords and all, but it's not the same." Sirius smiled when he saw Harry visibly relax, his body no longer tense as he leaned against the railing.

"Nice to know I'm useful."

"Oh, _you're_ not useful – just your training." A sly grin on Harry's face told Sirius that he was joking, but he slapped the back of his head anyway, laughing vindictively when Harry yelped and rubbed the back of his head. Sirius ignored Harry's muttering under his breath. He stood up and brushed his trousers off. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Now, I dunno about you, but I have places to be. And you wouldn't want to be late for your second day of school, would you?" Harry groaned, and pulled himself up, adjusting his bag and striding after his godfather, who had already started walking, whistling a jaunty tune with his hands in his pockets.

* * *

Harry's phone vibrated on the table, but thankfully nobody was in the same aisle as him to see him leap out of his chair and point his French textbook at the phone. He breathed heavily for a few seconds, trying to calm his racing heartbeat, before he picked up the chair off the floor and placed it next to the table. He carefully took a seat, and placed the hefty book back the table. He carefully picked up the phone – _Merlin, why did I let Hermione buy him one?_ – and opened up the message he had just been sent, frowning when he saw it was from Sirius.

'**bambi, black magic or gardening?'**

Harry's frown widened. What the hell was Sirius talking about?

'_sirius, you're not making sense.'_

Harry laboriously typed out the text message and sent it. He still hadn't gotten the hang of using such tiny keys. He put down the phone and opened up his textbook again, trying to finish his French homework, but he was once again disrupted. Thankfully his jolt was much less severe this time, and managed to catch the phone before it vibrated off the table.

'**course i am. now answer the question.'**

The teenage boy blew out air in exasperation, but he knew from experience that if he didn't respond to his godfather's whims, he would be pestered until he snapped and broke something – usually Sirius's nose.

'_uh, gardening, I guess.'_

Sirius's reply didn't take long.

'**wrong answer. go join the black magic club.' **

"What?" Harry muttered, wrinkling his nose as he thought. What brought that up?

'_eh?'_

By the time Sirius had finally replied, Harry had put down his phone and was intently reading his French textbook, and he cursed violently when his phone vibrated again, his textbook falling to the floor. Had he been anywhere near other students, they would have been scandalised at his colourful language, but Harry had cleverly hidden himself in one of the alcoves of the fourth library.

Hermione would have loved this place – four immense libraries.

He quickly opened up the text message, his eyes getting narrower with each line he read.

'**eloquent as ever, bambi. remus promised that hostess of yours that he'd make you join a club, get you to meet people. palmed it off on me, as usual, so it's my job to make sure you're not an antisocial prat =P'**

_Oh, you have to be kidding._

He barely had time to form another thought before another text message from his godfather vibrated his phone.

'**now, go join that black magic club. they're unlike any magic user you've seen, trust me. i'll know if you haven't gone! =D'**

Harry dropped his head on his desk, groaning.

_You have _got_ to be kidding._

He stayed slumped on the table for a few moments, and then dragged himself up, shutting his textbook mournfully. He didn't Sirius for one second when he said that he knew if Harry had gone or not, it was his job to make sure Harry was safe. Harry never found it stifling – ok, maybe he found it stifling on his bad days – but he knew it was for everyone's benefit.

He kicked his chair back and slung his bag over his shoulder, running a hand through his already messy hair. Damn that hostess. A club, of all things. He knew that she wanted him to meet new people but why did she have to his guardians? He'd never get out of it now! And why was she taking such an interest in his wellbeing anyway?

He hoped he hadn't hurt her.

Harry smoothly made his way out of the library, dodging the squealing girls and hiding his shudders. He felt bad for whoever this Haruhi was, nobody deserved to have teenage fangirls. Still, he was glad that they had gotten over their 'new kid' obsession with him – no more love letters. He was optimistic that he would be forgotten over the next few weeks or so – this new member of the Host Club definitely had everyone captivated.

It took a moment for Harry to realise that he'd been walking with no direction for some time now, and that he was helplessly lost.

He turned on his heel, trying to retrace his footsteps, but he ended up in one of the numerous courtyards. Harry spun around, squinting up at the sun and trying to figure out just what courtyard he was in. They all looked the same! Same grass, same benches, same cherry blossom. But wait, he could see the clock tower from this courtyard, it was close enough to touch. He was definitely in the high school building then, there was the familiar pond he had sat by this morning.

A sudden pulse of magic ran up from the grass through his legs, and he toppled to the floor, completely off guard. His wand shot to his hand before he had time to think, but he quickly stood up and hid his wand away, cursing under his breath. The courtyard was thankfully empty, but he looked around anyway – not with his eyes, but with his magic.

Luna had helped him see magical trails a long time ago – he didn't have the natural talents like Remus's heightened senses or Sirius's dog nose. Orange smoke was drifting up into the air, with some of it sticking to the cherry blossom trees. He wrinkled his nose. There weren't many spells he knew that resulted in orange magic, but the ones he did know were generally prank spells, utilised by Fred and George.

The pulse of magic had answered his questions – there _were_ magic users in Ouran. Witches, wizards, he didn't quite know yet, but those orange sparks had the same taste as the magic he had faintly felt right outside the gates when he had first walked into Ouran.

His feet had started moving towards where the trails were strongest before he had completely decided that he was a curious git, and that it was going to kill him one day.

The orange magic was lingering, coiling around everything that stood up – the pillars, the benches and the trees all had orange strands weaving through them. He looked around and then pulled out his wand, cautiously prodding an orange thread. It stuck to the tip of his wand – some sort of glue in the magic, then. He severed the thread, and watched the cut off lengths flutter to the floor. Harry looked up and saw the orange trails fading away, losing their hold. He frowned – it wasn't very strong magic then.

He stepped towards the strands, looking for where they were thickest. They seemed to come from inside the school, so that was where he had to go. He strode off, keeping an eye out for anyone walking past. He didn't quite know what the magic was supposed to do, so he should keep everyone out of the way. It was surprisingly quiet around for a lunch time, but then again the libraries had been very busy.

Harry's walk quickened to a run when another pulse of magic pressed him against the wall, complete orange strands shooting past him. He must have made a strange sight, with his back plastered against the wall, but then again, if anyone had seen him, they'd have seem the orange magic as well.

_Damn, this is some far-reaching magic_, he thought frowning. He was in the middle of the school, and still he hadn't reached the source. But he was close, the air had gotten thicker. Even though he was in the centre of the high school building, somehow everything seemed... old. Surprised though he was that such an expensive school let columns crumble away and ivy weave its way through windows, he suspected that somehow, magic was involved.

The slight tingling he got in his calloused hand when he pressed his palm against the wall of the dark corridor agreed with him.

A dark wooden door was at the end of the corridor, and it opened slightly, creaking ominously. Harry could see nothing but black through the small slit, and he sighed, stepping forward into the corridor. The air suddenly felt cold and hostile, and Harry clenched the cuffs of his blazer in his wrists, grinning.

Amateurs.

He strode forward and pushed the door open.

* * *

_**Playing: Good Life – OneRepublic**_

* * *

**Hehe, I'm torturing you guys - Harry had the choice between going to Kasanoda's club or Nekozawa's club, and he _would_ have picked Kasanoda - if not for Sirius. Hehehe.**

**Very short chapter today, 3.5K only. Sorry, I figured here was a good cut off point. I haven't checked it yet, so please tell me if you notice any mistakes.**

**God, I'm crying so much right now – not because of the chapter though. I just reread Fullmetal Alchemist, and the Naruto soundtrack is magnificent. I guess I just like torturing myself.**

**Thank you for all the song suggestions, I'm actually obsessed with Lindsey Stirling and Safetysuit, so thank you Sanguivore and Kiseki no Tenshi for that.**

**I personally would suggest **_**The Day Before – Nell**_**. It's stunning, with such a deep meaning. The video's superb; it's beautifully shot with amazing camera work. I cry every time I listen to it.**

**Oh, it's also Korean – but NOTHING like **_**Gangnam Style**_**, trust me. I want to show you all how different K-Pop can be, so please have a listen? **

**Before I forget, the reference in the last chapter was to Underworld. I don't really like the films, but I shamelessly stole the bullet concept.**

**QUESTION: If you were famous, what you be famous for?**


	4. Spiked Drinks

**Urgh, the short-ness of my last chapter is really bothering me. Let's make up for it!**

**Once again, I love you all. Sorry about the lateness of all my PMs, and I'm ridiculously behind responding to reviews and individually thanking everyone for following/favouriting my story Taste/me. Haven't had internet for a while.**

**Disclaimer: I have nothing to do with either Ouran High School Host Club or Harry Potter.**

**Let the games begin!**

* * *

_**Playing: Hot Air Balloon – Owl City**_

* * *

**Chapter Four – Spiked Drinks**

A shiver wracked Kanazuki Reiko's body, and she released the scented candle she had just accidently mangled. The soft thud on the floor brought Nekozawa Umehito's attention away from a thick dusty book on warding, and his eyes light up when Reiko nodded, her hands shaking.

"It's him, isn't it sempai?" Kato Hayate jumped up excitedly, his crisp black robe falling off his shoulders.

"Places everyone!" said Nekozawa with a tremble in his voice, clapping his hands to focus himself. _Relax, Umehito. He'll be a nice person. He will._

"Not a hair out of place!" He critically looked around the room, his eyes narrowed. "Hayate-san, light your candle, Reiko-san, fix your robes." The dark haired girl rolled her eyes but complied, crossing her ankles as she altered her elegant pose. Nekozawa looked for the last member of his club, and sweat dropped at the lightly snoring figure draped across one of the tables. "I'll... cover Kenji-san." The youngest member had obligingly conjured up a dark sheet that matched all the other coverings in the room, and once the dosing boy had been hidden from view, he extinguished the lights.

Then they waited.

When the crack in the door widened, Reiko sent a powerful gust of wind, and Hayate ignited his single candle. Nekozawa was very proud of the low, evil chuckle that the younger boy gave, though he was a little bit worried that Hayate's face was too close to the candle; he looked close to setting his grey hair alight.

Then Hayate frowned, and he drooped, his shoulders slumping. Nekozawa furrowed his eyebrows – why was he frowning? He shouldn't be frowning; he should be displaying the creepy aura they had all practiced.

"He's not very impressed, sempai," said Hayate despairingly, and Nekozawa bit back a groan. Of all times to give up, he chose now, when they had a magic user in their midst. Reiko wasn't nearly as discreet with her distaste, and Hayate glared at her when she snorted.

Intrigued by the stranger who didn't find their magic impressive (and it should have been impressive, high level magic was needed to change feelings), he drifted closer, peering into glaring green eyes that were dulled by glasses. A shock of messy black hair topped the boy's head. He was short, though not as short as Reiko – probably a first year student then.

"Who the hell are you?" A sharp, low voice cut through Nekozawa's thoughts, and he winced as the boy's glare sharpened. This boy was scary – who glared so hard? He acted horrible as well – he was slouching, and his voice was muted, so that they had to fight to hear him. There was nothing Nekozawa hated more than someone who didn't care. It was like he was _trying_ to make Nekozawa dislike him.

"Hmm," said Nekozawa, not answering the boy's question.

He bit back a grin at the slight alarm on the boy's face when Reiko seemingly appeared out of nowhere and drew her face centimetres away from his – she needed no instruction from him on intimidation. "Who the hell are _you_?"

"Language, Reiko-san," said Nekozawa absently, noticing just how green the boy's eyes were, and moved to the left to let Hayate peer at the boy as well. "We don't want to scare our guest away."

The boy raised his eyebrows in disbelief, and then shook his head, focusing. There was a frown on his face. "What was that orange magic?" he said shortly.

Nekozawa and Reiko exchanged a look. "... Orange magic?"

The boy sighed, and Nekozawa's hands itched to choke the laziness out of him. "You didn't see it."

"Of course we didn't!" said Hayate, his eyes wide. "I was only spiking Reiko-sempai's drink! It wouldn't have been strong enough for it to be-" He was cut off sharply when Reiko stepped on his foot in silent revenge, and Nekozawa shook his head in exasperation. He turned back to the boy, who was looking at the fighting pair with an odd look in his eye.

"Still, _you_ saw it, didn't you? Is it possible you're a magical creature? Vampire, veela?"

The boy's face alleviated from the glare, though it still wasn't relaxed. His hands were in his pockets. "... Completely human."

Reiko's eyebrows dropped, the only sign she was confused. "Then how..."

"You can train." A second passed, and then the three Black Magic Club members burst out laughing – well, Hayate burst out laughing. Nekozawa chuckled lowly and Reiko snorted.

"I'm being serious," said the boy, his eyes narrowed.

Reiko blinked, and then looked at Nekozawa. "He _is_ being serious," said the girl disbelievingly. The air, once heavy with cold anticipation, had hastily cleared up again, and the boy scowled – did he show no other emotion? – as the figure in front of him made to prod him, as if to make sure he was real. He slapped Hayate's pale hands away.

"Che. Of course I am," the boy muttered under his breath and rolled his eyes as he pushed Hayate away from his face. He looked off to the side, bored. Nekozawa frowned. "... Seers are usually better at it, but theoretically everyone can do it," said the boy quietly, as if he was forcing himself to say it. Was he trying to make conversation? He was bad at it, worse than Reiko.

"That's..."

"Sempai?" asked Hayate cautiously when Nekozawa trailed off, a manic look in his eyes.

"That's amazing!" said the leader of the club, throwing his hands up in delight and narrowly missing Hayate's face. Nekozawa was _ecstatic_. He had never heard of anything like that, it was so... strange. Still, he supposed magic was capable of nearly anything, and he didn't really have the right to call anyone strange. This moody, unsociable boy happened to have a skill that nobody in the Black Magic Club had ever heard of – he wasn't boasting, but the members of the Black Magic Club were as varied as the infamous Host Club, though less well known. For nobody to have heard of seeing magic – well, that boy was something else. Nekozawa _had_ to get him to join.

"He can see _magic_! This is magnificent, just think about what the Black Magic Club could _do_ with someone like him-"

He cut himself off when he saw the boy's face steadily get stonier and stonier, and Nekozawa winced. He tipped his head to the right, and trying to make up for the damage, waved Beelzenef in the air and said, "Ah, well, we haven't convinced you to join yet, have we? Tell you what, if you join, we'll give you a free Beelzenef!"

"I'll join."

"Not good enough? How about – wait, what?"

Reiko sighed long-sufferingly, and said in her usual miserable tone, "He said he'd join sempai, try to keep up. Though I can't think _why_ you'd join – not for Beelzenef, surely?" Hayate and Reiko ignored Nekozawa's offended glare.

The boy snorted, but somehow he too was resistant to Nekozawa's glower. Probably because he was used to glowering himself. "I'm being forced to join." Nekozawa sighed. He didn't want anyone to be _forced_ into joining! One had to have passion to truly flourish, especially at magic.

"That's not the only reason," said Reiko matter-of-factly, and the boy raised an eyebrow.

"... Personal interest."

"In what?" Nekozawa bit his lip – he could see the boy get more and more frustrated with Reiko's questions.

"Japanese magic."

The only reason Nekozawa noticed the curiosity in the boy's once glaring eyes was because he had been intently studying them. He was a little taken aback. It seemed his newest disciple had a thirst for learning, then. Surprising – hadn't that boy been bored and apathetic just a few seconds ago? Surprising, but good – Reiko, the only one who was particular willing to learn anything, only had an interest in astrology, and that wasn't Nekozawa's best subject. He was much better at personal spells.

"Well, we accept everyone with open arms!" Nekozawa drifted away, and lit up the candles dotted around the room with a whispered word, illuminating the room that was Nekozawa's pride and joy. He hid a smile when he saw the boy take in the elegant, aged furniture and the thick, heavy drapes that protected him from the sunlight. He swept one arm out in a dramatic manner, ignoring Reiko when she rolled her eyes. "This is the club room, where'll we meet every few days. Take a seat." Nekozawa and Reiko stared at him until he took a seat where Reiko had once sat.

"Reiko-sempai's in charge of the meeting days," said Hayate, pulling on the collar of his robe uncomfortably. He didn't usually wear it often; it was an odd size for him. "We usually send out messages, the timings are always changing. Keep people on their toes." He coughed, saying something that sounded suspiciously like 'Kenji'. Nekozawa grinned, showing his white teeth.

"As a club member, you'll be expected to go on outings with us, to the various festivals we get invited to," Reiko examined her painted nails, glancing at the annoyed expression on the new member's face. "We usually perform various fortune-telling acts, and stunts – entertainment."

"Generally, we don't have many events during school time, so we practise and improve on our knowledge. You said you were interested in Japanese magic?" The boy nodded after a second. "Well, this would be your chance to learn. Kenji-san is the most... in touch with his Japanese background, but if he falls asleep, I'm sure Hayate-san will be more than willing to teach you." Hayate nodded in agreement.

"I think that concludes the introduction..."

"You're forgetting something, sempai," said Reiko dully.

"Am I?" Nekozawa drifted off, thinking hard.

Reiko blinked. "... _Names_?"

His expression cleared, and he raised a finger. "Ah, yes!" Hayate snorted. "Well then, I am Nekozawa Umehito, class 3-B, and head of the Black Magic Club. This is Kanazuki Reiko," the girl nodded her head in greeting, but the boy didn't return it, "class 1-D, and Kato Hayate in class 3-B of Middle School. Nara Kenji of 2-B is currently sleeping under that curtain over there, but I'm sure you'll be acquainted soon enough."

Nekozawa waved his hand in the general direction of Kenji, who was still softly snoring away, and the boy followed his line of sight. "We don't have many members, but we get by."

The boy was silent for a few seconds, but then his spoke, his voice soft. "Is that all I need to know?"

Nekozawa blinked. "Ah, yes, I think?"

The boy stood up quickly and walked over to the door, but Hayate's voice made him stop. "Wait, we don't know who you are!"

The boy didn't turn around. "Potter Harry, class 3-A." Then he left and shut the door behind him, leaving the three conscious members stupefied.

"That... he can't be a third year student! He's too short!"

"Height's no indication of age, Hayate-san, you know that," said Nekozawa, pointedly looking at the top of Hayate's head. The grey haired boy towered over Nekozawa by at least four inches. The head of the club sighed, and looked at Reiko, who was biting her bottom lip. "But that's not the issue here, is it?"

"No..."

"I think we all see what you meant when you said 'figure of power', Reiko-san."

He leaned against the tabletop that Kenji slept on. "Figure of power indeed. Potter Harry..."

* * *

"Sirius-san, we have one 'Potter Harry' here for a visit," said Yuki, poking his head through the doorway, a pen behind his ear. "What do you want done?"

"Send him through," said Sirius with a grin. "Thanks for the coffee."

"Finished your paperwork?" said Yuki with a frown. He stepped into the room and leaned against the filing cabinet, his own cup of coffee clutched in his hand.

"Nearly..."

"So you haven't started it then."

"Well...

"You'll fall behind, the boss will have your behind."

"Yeah, yeah." Yuki shook his head with a smile. "Hey, take a break, will ya? You look dead on your feet." Sirius eyed the shaking of his subordinate's hand, and the pale tautness of his face.

"Can't for at least another hour, waiting for the viewing report to come through." Yuki grimaced. "It's a nasty case."

"Murders usually are," said Sirius with a tired, sad smile. "Hopefully we'll find the fucker that did it."

"Language," reprimanded Yuki. "Your godson's coming in now," said the younger man, looking through the blinds. "I'm off."

"See ya," said Sirius with a tired grin. Yuki brushed off his trousers and gave a two fingered salute as he left the room, which Sirius returned. The door swung shut, but it was stopped by a foot, and Harry pushed the door open, his school uniform slightly more dishevelled than it had been in the morning. His bag was slung over his shoulders, and he carried a textbook in the crook of his arm, his hair messy from running his hands through it. All in all, a true student.

Sirius could honestly say that Harry had never looked so normal.

"Stop texting me in school."

"What, not even a 'hi' for your hardworking godfather?" Sirius crossed his hands behind his head and leaned back, the perfect picture of lazy boredom. A slow grin made his way onto his face when Harry flung himself into the seat opposite, glaring.

It was safe to say that if looks could kill, Harry would have Avada Kedavra'd Sirius to heaven.

"Hi. Stop texting me in school, Padfoot."

"Oh, you love it really. It's the only socialising you do." Harry made a noise of disgust, and Sirius counted it as a victory.

"Stop changing my ringtone as well. '_Do You Like Pancakes_' scared the crap out of Haninozuka."

"Oh, you finally figured out the midget's name?" The younger boy raised an eyebrow.

"Don't call people midgets, you lanky git." Harry didn't question how Sirius knew the members of class 3-A better than he did – the dog Animagus liked to keep track of the people he cared about. Even right now, the video feeds from the hospital where Remus worked was being monitored, as were various security cameras in England. Hermione, now working for the muggle British government, had an information network that Sirius was part of.

"Feel the need to defend your kind, Frodo?" Harry gave him a look of disgust, and crossed his arms. Sirius waited, but Harry said nothing else.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Did you join the Black Magic Club?"

"Yes."

"... _Well_?"

"Well _what_?"

"How did it go?"

"... It was fine." Sirius threw his hands up in the air.

"Oh for Merlin's – I swear, you have your teenage rebellion stage now and I will string you up by the ankles and hang you in front of the chairman's office."

"Oh, like you can talk! You ran away for your rebellion stage to live with my dad!"

"My parents were insane, Bambi! I had to do _something_. And this isn't about me, this is about _you_. I expect a bit more detail when you tell me about your day." Harry took a deep breath and smirked, and Sirius froze.

_Fuck._

"Report. At 1529 hours I was studying French in the fourth library at Ouran Academy. I received your text message and complied with your _wishes_ to join the Black Magic Club, so I left to find the club room. I was in the courtyard when a blast of long-lasting sticky orange magic exploded out of the school. I decided to investigate, because it had the same taste as the magic I felt when I first arrived at school. The trails of magic led me to the centre of the school, where a corridor had been aged and made to look derelict with magic."

Here Harry took a deep breath and paused in his monologue, but when Sirius opened his mouth to interrupt Harry ploughed on.

"I entered the room at the end of the corridor, where an atmosphere of cold hostility emanated. All windows and possible exits were covered with heavy drapes, blocking any sort of light. The furniture was Baroque, slate grey Ginori cups were on the table with tea dregs, and a dish of old Chinese coins in a cupboard in the left corner of the room, presumably for I Ching. It was dark when I entered, but a boy who was later introduced as Kato Hayate of class 3-B in Middle School attempted an intimidation technique with a candle, which he soon gave up. The room lit up to reveal two other students, who were later introduced as Nekozawa Umehito of class 3-B of High School, and Kanazuki Reiko of class 1-D. I questioned them on the orange magic that came from the room, but nobody was aware that magic could even be seen by humans. Kato may have known the magic was orange, but he was cut off by Kanazuki before I could fully comprehend. Nekozawa, once realising that I could see magic, saw benefits of having me as a member of his club, which just so happened to be the Black Magic Club. I joined the club, and the three members explained the club schematics, also introducing the final member of the club, Nara Kenji of class 2-B, who seemed to be asleep. I introduced myself and left."

Harry coughed, and Sirius made to interrupt again, but Harry carried on speaking.

"Person analysis. Nekozawa Umehito, the self proclaimed head of the Black Magic Club, around 5'9", pale skin from lack of vitamin D, blue eyes and a black wig hidden under the heavy black robe that all members wore. His robe was well cared for, and looked as if it was worn often. There were blond hairs on his robe, around knee height, so it can be assumed he is around a young blond child often, possibly a sibling. Fervently carried a cat puppet he called Beelzenef, which seemed to be a sort of club mascot, and was also offered to me. Invasive of personal space, in an attempt of intimidation. Well manicured hands, he takes care of his appearance and has the money to do it. Slight calluses on his fingers, probably from playing a string instrument."

"Merlin, Harry-"

"-His posture indicated he is insecure, and hides behind wigs and robes. His magic tasted dark, not evil, but dark, like dark chocolate, slightly bitter. It's well trained, mainly in offensive curses from the way it wrapped around him. Scatterbrained, forgot to introduce himself and had to be reminded.

"Kanazuki Reiko, apparently sorts out timings for meetings so it can be assumed she is well organised and can cope with responsibility. Around 5'2", long black hair and grey eyes. Same grey robe, looked well cared for and well worn. Chipped black nail polish and paper cuts on her fingers, in a pattern from shuffling papers. Oil paint stained her thumbs – works with artists' materials often enough to leave permanent marks. Smelled of linseed oil, the same brand Luna uses. Good posture. Mud tracks on the back of her tights, must have gone through rain – probably Shirai, it was raining this morning. Doesn't put much thought into her appearance, no makeup and her hair was badly straightened. Her magic was a deep blue, completely encased her. She's completely comfortable with her magic, but it's a lot like Luna's, she doesn't use many spells but uses her magic on less physical aspects, probably tarot and such. Voice was lower than most girls, well cultured but unused, completely flat, she seems a stranger to emotion-"

"Breathe, Bambi-"

"-Kato Hayate, the most childish. Around 6'3", brown eyes, grey hair, but not dyed, it seemed hereditary – his eyebrows, eyelashes and the hair on his arms were all grey. His robe seemed to hang off him, he's unused to wearing it; it was still stiff and new. Well cared for beaded bracelet on his right wrist, and a regularly cleaned ring on his left middle finger. His trainers were scuffed, and his knees were scraped, he probably isn't used to his height yet – ow!" Sirius had slapped the back of Harry's head with a folder he had taken out of the filing cabinet, and forced him to take a cup of coffee.

"Don't get smart with me! You know what I meant, and I _didn't_ mean full verbal report." Sirius lowered himself back into his chair and gave Harry a wistful look. Harry was frowning and looking away.

"Sorry, Padfoot."

"Hehe. Lily used to do the same thing – deliberately take things out of context, I mean. It was hilarious."

Harry gave him a sharp look, and Sirius smiled. "You're... not mad at me for being difficult?"

"Nah, kinda asked for it. Besides, you're difficult all the time, what's this one time?"

Harry ignored the dig, choosing to run a finger along the rim of the cup. "It's just... I was really annoyed about having to join that club. I took it out on you. Sorry."

"Don't be!" exclaimed Sirius with a smile. "It's because of me, anyway, so you should take it out on me, rather than your classmates, say. And besides, I think it's good you're showing emotion, Bambi. You're too closed off, you need to open up."

"But I can't just do that to anyone, Padfoot. I'm a war hero, remember? They're civilians, I'll probably traumatise them. And they'll probably hero worship me."

"I doubt it. Japan, remember? Not big fans of war." Sirius shrugged, walking up to his filing cabinet and pulling out more folders, covered in red stamps. "And besides, you said you introduced yourself? We haven't been mobbed yet, so they obviously haven't spread the news that they just met Harry-freaking-Potter, and all. They seem like a good sort, anyway. Though you never finished your analysis on the final club member. There were four, weren't there?"

Harry gave Sirius a surprised smile; he clearly didn't think the older man had been listening. "There were, Nara Kenji was the final member, but he was sleeping under a drape, so I didn't see him."

"When's your first club meeting?"

Harry shrugged with one shoulder, putting the cup down on Sirius' desk. "They're irregular, I'll get a message. They said they do a lot out of school, festivals and things like that."

"I know, Yuki looked it up for me," grinned the older man. "That was why I chose the Black Magic Club over the Gardening Club, they did more things out of school. It'll be good for you. Don't give that look! You'll enjoy it, I swear."

"Uhuh," said Harry with one eyebrow raised.

"You're welcome to stay Bambi, but I'd best get started on this paperwork." Harry nodded, and Sirius flicked through his folders, before he said, "Oh right, before I forget. We're having dinner guests tonight."

"What?" Harry furrowed his eyebrows, and closed the French textbook. Sirius rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Yeah... with the Fujiokas, the family that live underneath us. Remus offered tonight as an apology."

"Apology for what?"

Sirius stayed silent.

"Padfoot..."

"I... may have flooded their flat."

Harry simply sighed, and rubbed his forehead.

* * *

It was six o'clock, and the meal with the Fujioka family was well on the way.

Sirius had shown up late, having been held back at the police station by his boss, who was irritated with the lack of paperwork that was being handed in. He had sent Harry forward, who had arrived at the apartment to see a flustered, blackened Remus holding a pan that had been smouldering.

Harry had simply sighed, and taken the pan from Remus, beginning his attempts to salvage what he could from the wreckage in the kitchen whilst the werewolf cleaned himself up and set the table.

The Fujioka family had arrived at half five, right on time. There were only two of them, so all the food that Harry had cooked would have to be stored as leftovers – both Remus and Sirius had forgotten to tell him how many he was cooking for. He was surprised to see a man wearing a dress, though he couldn't judge – he was very well dressed. He was also surprised to see the cross dresser he had seen in the morning, no longer wearing the boys' uniform but a light dress, which confirmed his opinion that she was indeed a girl. The girl, whose name was Haruhi, did indeed look like a girl with this particular apparel, though the hair was shorter than what he usually saw, and her figure was very boyish.

By the time he had learnt her name, of course, he had pieced together that she was the Haruhi that the girls in Ouran Academy had been squealing about, and he winced in sympathy for her plight. He had also realised that if she was the Haruhi they had been obsessing over, then firstly, nobody could tell she was a girl, and secondly, she was a host in that Ouran Host Club. The club that had spread a rumour that they would be trying to get him to join, though nobody had come to see him about any actual joining.

_Interesting_, he mused as he sat back down in his seat after taking the empty glasses to the sink.

"So, Harry-san, you go to Ouran as well. I haven't seen you around, what class are you in?"

Harry stirred his tea, staying silent for a while before he spoke up. Remus and Sirius glared at him when he didn't say anything. "Class 3-A."

"Oh, the same class as Honey-sempai and Mori-sempai then. Do you know them well?"

"No." Fujioka Ranka, who was Haruhi's similarly cross-dressing father, visibly bit back a laugh at Harry's wince. The teenage boy subtly rubbed his leg where Sirius had kicked him under the table, and silently beseeched his guardians when they stood up, followed by Ranka.

"Right then, us grown-ups have things to discuss," said Remus, rubbing his hands together. "We'll go into the lounge, leave you two youngsters to talk."

The door swung shut, and an awkward silence reigned between the two. He busied himself with the dirty cutlery, and when he looked back at his quiet guest, he was slightly dismayed to see Haruhi gazing at the doughnut clock on the wall. Harry thought hard of something to say.

"Are you in the Host Club, Haruhi-san?" Harry winced at the flat tone of his voice. Merlin, he was bad at this.

His voice surprised her out of her contemplation. Haruhi blinked, and then sighed, staring deep into her tea cup. "Yes, unfortunately. How do you know?"

He snorted. "The girls have been obsessed with 'Haruhi-kun the new host'."

She rolled her eyes. "Guess news travels just like it does in commoner schools."

"You call them commoner schools?"

"Oh God, those hosts are rubbing off on me. Those rich idiots insult everything that cost less money than their clothes." Harry smirked. He knew exactly what she was talking about.

Harry found himself being drawn into the conversation, contrary to his expectations. Haruhi really was a bright girl, and she didn't care for appearances, as shown by her blatant cross-dressing at school.

"Are you in a club then, Harry-san?"

"... yes, unfortunately." Haruhi smiled at the mimicry of one of her own lines. "The Black Magic Club."

Ranka and Sirius quietly high-fived from behind the door where they were eavesdropping, grinning widely, and Remus shook his head, smiling gently.

"It worked perfectly, Sirius!" Ranka was very familiar with the black haired aristocrat, having seen each other in shops often. This morning, Sirius had called Ranka whilst he was at work, lamenting about unmanageable teenagers, and Ranka had reminded him about his own unemotional child. A brainwave had hit them both at the same moment, and they had called Remus at the hospital, who had laughed and agreed to the idea.

Thus, today's meal. Sirius hadn't really flooded the Fujioka apartment. They had fabricated the story to engineer the two surly teens into meeting, and hopefully, a friendship would result out of it.

From the sounds of it, it was a match made in heaven – the two were unsociable enough to cancel each other out, bizarrely. They had lots in common as well – both liked cooking and food, both had a joy for learning, both were forced into weird clubs and both had crazy guardians who liked pushing them into uncomfortable situations. The two of them even looked similar, at a pinch.

It definitely seemed like they would become friends, and the three men celebrated – quietly, of course, in case Harry heard them, realised their plot and tried to kill them.

* * *

_**Playing: Stairway To Heaven – Led Zeppelin**_

* * *

**IMPORTANT, PLEASE READ: From the direction of the story, Harry's pairing will probably be with Nekozawa, but if you want Harry/Mori, I'll think about it. This is the point to decide on a pairing, so I can adjust the plot to fit, so please tell me in a review or a PM. Nekozawa or Mori?**

**Back to typical lengthy A/N.**

**Argh, I'm so sorry about the wait! I just had a lot to go through – in the time between this chapter and the last, I submitted a roomful of coursework, went to five weddings, had a breakdown, got declared clinically depressed, had a panic attack about a few friends' numerous brain scans and mountains of medicines, and moved house.**

**But I'm ok now! And so are my friends, so I should be able to focus on Fanfiction – specifically Taste, because I've been writing other Fanfiction. Bad Cas.**

**But back to Taste – I really enjoyed writing the second part of this chapter, from Sirius and Yuki's conversation. Not so much the first bit. I had a few ideas about it, and about twenty drafts. If you can see any ways to improve, please tell me and I'll make some changes. Oh, and I didn't just pluck OCs from the top of my head – in the manga, there's a frame with five BMC members. I made Harry one of those, and created two more to fit the picture. I think Kenji's my favourite so far. Being conscious is too troublesome for a Nara, after all, if you get my drift.**

**Thank you to everyone who understood my lateness – I got a B in my Art coursework, which on the scale of things in my ridiculously fault-finding posh school is rubbish, but I've stopped caring. And that's how it should be!**

**Answer to my question – I'd be famous for taking over the world, burning all children and becoming immortal. I've actually made plans about how to do it – I have an 'Evil Plans and Stuff' notebook filled with diagrams and spent a few months wondering if Horcruxes were a viable method. **

**I'm a disturbed child, I know. Anyone wanna help me take over the planet? I'll make it a better place, I swear.**

**QUESTION: Does anyone actually read my notes? Just kidding, that's not the question – what would your ideal date be? For all you romantics out there, and because deep down, I'm one of these people too.**

**Cas out. Probably for a whole year, knowing me.**


	5. Gravy

**Disclaimer: I have nothing to do with either Ouran High School Host Club or Harry Potter.**

**Let the games begin!**

* * *

_**Playing: My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark – Fall Out Boy**_

* * *

**Chapter Five – Gravy**

Hermione whistled a jaunty tune as she tapped a few buttons on her laptop, and then closed the screen with a contented sigh. She spun in her chair to face Ron, who was leaning against the wall, fiddling with the hem of his ratty jumper in boredom. He looked up at the sound of her turning, a hopeful expression on his face.

"Yes, I'm done," she said with a grin as the ginger boy leapt up into the air, whooping.

"Finally! Merlin, you take your time," said Ron, taking his coat of the back of Hermione's chair and pulling it on. Hermione slipped her shoes back onto her feet, stumbling a little, but Ron caught her elbow to steady her whilst he put on his scarf. She smiled in thanks, and snagged her own coat, pulling it tighter as they stepped out into the bitter wind outside.

It was a Sunday afternoon, and Hermione had had to step in for somebody who had fallen ill with a case of chickenpox at her department in MI6. Normally, at this time the two of them would have been travelling to the Burrow for the usual Sunday lunch, but it had been unavoidable, and Hermione had dragged her boyfriend with her. He had been waiting in a tea room, but when Hermione had finally arrived she realised she had some emails to send, and forced Ron to wait for her whilst she pulled out her laptop again in the middle of the shop and completed her work.

Now they were finally on their way again, and the familiar tingle of nerves ran through their veins. They waited at a nearby, empty road and stuck their wands out, calling for the Knight Bus. Neither of them particularly liked the Knight Bus, but they didn't like Apparating either – Hermione's laptop could potentially wreck havoc on the magic at work. Portkeys took time to make legally (and the two of them were all for legal, now that they were being scrutinised by the public eye – wouldn't do to corrupt the next generation) and it was hard to find a fireplace that Ron could still fit into – which left the Knight Bus. Ron sniggered when he saw Hermione visibly gulp at the sight of the wayward bus, but quickly shut up when she glared at him.

A violent, painful trip later, the two of them had staggered out of the door, glaring at a cheery Stan Shunpike, and stepped into Ottery St. Catchpole, smiling at the sight of the Burrow in the distance. They started walking up the hill, arguing about the smallest things as they often did.

When they finally arrived, Ginny was leaning against the door frame, her arms crossed and a smirk on her face. She was wearing a thin white dress that wasn't suited to the autumn weather, but she didn't look cold.

"Honestly, I can hear you two lovebirds half a mile away. Do you ever shut up?"

Ron opened his mouth to argue, but jumped when Luna poked her head out from behind Ginny. "Hello, you two. Did the Knight Bus hurt?"

"No more than it usually does," said Hermione with a roll of her eyes, not questioning how the younger girl knew that they took the Knight Bus. "Can we move this conversation to inside? It's cold."

"They're all in the kitchen," said Ginny as she complied, holding the door open further to let them in. Once the door was shut, they took off their coats and shoes, and walked into the kitchen, smiling at the noise and rowdiness that already pervaded through the haphazard house. Hermione carefully stepped over Luna's cat, but Ron wasn't nearly as careful, his gangly frame tumbling through the door. Hermione tutted, and helped him up with a smirk.

Bill and Charlie laughed, but made no move away from the table that they were setting, both busy with armfuls of crockery and cutlery.

"Honestly, Ronniekins, could you get any clumsier?" came the voice of Fred, who was sitting on the worktop, and Ron groaned.

"Oh, you sound like you're not happy to see us!" said George, who had his head in a cupboard where he was rooting around for a spoon to stir the gravy with. "I think we should be offended, George."

"Too right, Fred," said Fred, smartly hopping off the worktop when his mother walked into the kitchen, glaring.

"Stop it, you two," said Bill firmly as he sat at the table, his plate still empty. "It's lovely to see you both," he said to Ron and Hermione, accepting the hug and kiss.

"No kiss for me?" said Charlie with a cheeky grin, and Hermione swatted at his arm but kissed him on the cheek anyway. The back door opened and Neville stepped into the kitchen, rubbing his strong, scarred arms as he clenched a bunch of radishes in his fists.

"You're finally here! Great, I'm starving," said the herbologist with a grin, handing the radishes to Mrs Weasley, who walked over to Ron and pulled him down into a chest crushing hug, which he accepted with a muffled _oomph_. Hermione laughed at his flailing arms, as did Neville and all of his brothers.

"Oh Ronnie, it's wonderful to see you! You don't come round often enough," she said tearfully, and Ron carefully extracted himself, glaring at his brothers.

"Mum, we came last week! You're getting forgetful."

"Must be your old age, huh?"

Mrs Weasley glared at the twins, who both had innocent expressions. She turned to Hermione and kissed her on the cheek fondly. "Oh, it's good you're all here, we can get started now!" She turned to the doorway. "GINNY, LUNA, COME DOWN HERE NOW! PERCY, YOU TOO!"

The two girls hurried into the room, grinning, and Percy walked in after them, running a hand over a thick book intently, which he put away after he sensed his mother glaring at him. They were ushered into seats, as was everyone else, and the usual Sunday lunch began.

The Sunday lunch at the Burrow had a bit of a history. It had originally been between the Weasleys when Bill didn't work at Gringotts, Percy didn't work at the Ministry and Charlie didn't live in Romania. It was a long time ago that the nine of them had had a full family meal, and though they had all noticed, none of them could do anything about the drifting apart.

It was the Quidditch World Cup that brought them together. The late patriarch of the family, Arthur Weasley, had procured tickets and forced all of his wayward sons to come with him, and Molly Weasley had whipped up one of her great feasts. They had sorely missed seeing all of their children in one place, and had endeavoured to make something like this happen more often. It was where they all belonged – they just looked happy, and content, and right together.

If there was one good thing that came out of the War of Terror, it was that sometimes, it brought families together. The Order living in Grimmauld Place together meant that shoulders rubbed, but they appreciated each other all the more as members were killed. It wasn't just the Weasleys anymore – Harry, Sirius, Remus, Tonks and Kingsley were but a few additions. In the second year of the war, the addition included Luna, Neville and some other members of the DA.

By the end of the war, the Sunday lunch line-up had changed so much that the Weasleys stopped counting – they just added an extra chair for everyone that turned up on Sunday. This Sunday was like every other – it was loud, and colourful, and filled to the brim with good food and good banter.

"So, how do you like the book, Percy?" said Hermione conversationally to the ginger haired man sitting next to her. Percy looked up from his plate with unfocused eyes, but his voice and his ears were just as sharp as ever.

"It's _fantastic_," he said through a mouthful of roast potatoes, and Hermione giggled. "I think Arya Stark is my favourite-"

"Nerd talk again," said Bill amicably to Charlie, who laughed heartily and accidently knocked the jug of pumpkin juice off the rickety table. Percy's hand reflexively shot out and he caught it, still rambling on about the trials of Tyrion Lannister. A few drops of juice hit the checked tablecloth, and Mrs Weasley tutted. Charlie shrugged apologetically.

"Charlie, honestly! And Percy, manners please. You don't usually forget them."

"Sorry Mum."

"Sorry Mum."

Neville coughed, bringing attention to himself. "Has anybody seen Kingsley recently?"

Ginny spoke up, wiping the corner of her mouth with a napkin. "Yeah, I saw him in Diagon Alley a few days ago, he looked fine."

"That's good... Seamus?"

"In Romania, messing with dragon fire, as usual," said Charlie with a grin.

The table chuckled, well aware of Seamus' pyromaniac tendencies. It had done him very well in the war; small bursts of fire unsettled the enemy and left him untouched.

"Cho's doing fine as well," piped up Luna, "she's having fun in China with her cousin. Harry's a little bit troubled though."

"Hal?" said Fred confusedly. "Nobody's heard from him in ages. How do you know?"

A squawk interrupted the conversation and everybody automatically flinched as a post owl flew in through the open window and knocked over the gravy onto the table as it skidded to a stop. Mrs Weasley screamed and leapt out of her chair, pulling Neville down with her, and Bill and Charlie both whipped out the wands. Hermione and Percy both brandished forks at the poor creature, and Ginny wielded a bowl of salad. Only Luna remained sitting at the table; she gently took the startled creature into her hands, cooing at it softly.

"There there, poor owl, you must have travelled a long way. Have you got a letter for us?"

The owl relinquished the crumpled up letter from its talons and once everyone had finally sat back at the table with varying expressions of suspicion, Luna put a few Sickles into the pouch and let the owl fly away.

"'Must have travelled a long way?'" said Hermione with a frown.

"Long distance owl," Luna said dreamily as she read the address on the letter. "It's addressed to you, Ron."

"Me?" Ron looked bewildered.

She tossed the letter at him, and he caught it easily, sliding his thumb under the red seal and flipping the parchment open. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "What the heck is this?"

"Give it here," said Hermione, and Ron put the letter into her open hand. She too furrowed her eyebrows, but then relaxed. "It's Japanese." She handed the letter around the table so everybody could see the slightly untidy scrawl.

"Who'd send a letter in Japanese?" said George in confusion.

"Well, who knows Japanese?"

"Luna does," said Bill, smiling fondly at the blond girl. She nodded in affirmation.

"But Luna wouldn't send a letter to me when she's right there," argued Ron. "It has to be someone else."

"Well then, who else knows?"

A few moments passed, and then Ginny snapped her fingers in realisation. "Hal! Luna taught him ages ago."

The table erupted into chaos.

"Hal? But we haven't heard from-"

"At least six months, why _now_-"

"Oh, I'm so glad to hear from him-"

"_Enough_," said Neville loudly, raising his voice just so – the way he had learnt in the war. The table quickly hushed, and Neville sighed, rubbing his temples. "The best way to deal with this would be by reading the letter, I think."

"Right you are, Nev!" said Fred cheerfully, slapping Neville on the back and laughing when he nearly fell into his plate.

"Luna, if you don't mind..." said Bill, who had the letter. He tossed it towards her.

"Of course not." The girl sat up straight and coughed lightly, before raising her voice.

* * *

'_Dear Ron,_

_Damn, I feel guilty just writing this. It's been what, half a year since I last talked to you all? Maybe more?_

_There's a reason for it, I swear. We've been moving around so fast since France I've barely had time to sit down, let alone write. Finland, Egypt, Mexico, even India – I don't know why we've been moving around so much but it's been fun. Tiring, but fun._

_I'm in Japan now, as you can probably tell. Oh, I forgot – get _Luna_ to read this! She'll understand. I even wrote her name in English, so you can't get this wrong._

_Wait, I forgot who I'm talking to._

_Haha, just kidding. I do want to see you all sometime soon; I think you'd all love Japan. Remus and Sirius say that Japan's permanent now – we're not gypsies anymore! I kinda want to stay in Japan now though. Strangely enough, it seems kind of perfect._

_Japan's... different. First off, no discrimination that I've noticed so far. I don't think there's a place that doesn't have discrimination, but I haven't seen anything else. It actually makes you turn your head when you see a group of vampires openly drinking espresso blood in the middle of the cafe. Werewolves aren't ostracised here either, like they were in Britain – they actually get help. Remus looks better than I've ever seen him – he works in a hospital now, believe it or not. I know, everyone thought he'd be a teacher, but honestly, after travelling with him for a year, there's nobody I'd trust more to heal me. _

_He looks the best I've ever seen him, and Sirius says the same thing, but don't take our word for it – come visit! Remus says it's fine, so long as you guys are ok with it. BRING EVERYONE. Samhain's pretty soon as well, so you have a reason! We have an apartment, so you'll probably have to stay in a hotel, but it'd be great to see you all again._

_We live in Bunkyo, Tokyo, on the top floor of our apartment building. It's a nice place, actually – not polluted, and it's easy to get to places._

_Speaking of, there's the most amazing city, Shirai. Hermione would love it, but knowing her, she's already heard of Shirai. I suppose you could say it's similar to Diagon Alley, but it's so different at the same time! It's a whole city, for one, filled with shops and schools and parks – our favourite cafe, Teuchi's, is also there. We go pretty much every weekend. The Japanese Ministry of Magic is based there as well – I've been there once, when we registered for citizenships. It's beautiful, none of that dark underground stuff like the British one. Like the rest of Japan, it's nearly completely integrated with the muggle side of things – they actually have technology that works with magic here. I'm considering buying Sirius a new bike from Shirai, if he doesn't piss me off too much._

_From the looks of it, it's not very likely. He's forced me to join school and then join a club in that school. Yep, you read that right. School. I'm a student again. Not through choice, of course – would I willingly join a place filled with emotional, irritating teenagers? Yes, I know I'm a teenager too, but let's face it, I'm not exactly normal. I haven't been around normal people my age for... well, did any of you ever count as normal? Because I don't think you do, and that means I haven't been around ordinary people since I was eleven._

_Though, I don't think my school counts as normal either – I'll explain. It's a private school – Ouran Academy. I'm in my third and final year here, even though I've technically only been here for a week. You have to have a pedigree and a fortune if you want to get in, and the one person who doesn't have either has smarts of Hermione level instead. Her name's Haruhi Fujioka, she lived with her cross dressing father in the apartment below us, and she too cross dresses. She was blackmailed into joining a club that the chairman's son founded: the Ouran Host Club. I... don't really want to explain what a host club is. Don't ask Hermione. She'll murder you. Ask Cho, or maybe Charlie. _

_Anyway, on my first day there, I got three love letters and a proposal to join the aforementioned Host Club – only they didn't ask me. No, they had what I can only describe as a 'stake-out' in the dining hall, wearing khaki and face paint and staring at me. I now know that the students who sit next to me, Haninozuka Mitsukuni and Morinozuka Takashi (Japanese name order, so Mitsukuni and Takashi are their first names – I have to call myself Potter Harry, it's weird. But I digress) are also in the Host Club, as the 'Lolita' and 'Wild' types respectively. _

_My own club is a magic club. The head of the club has some sort of fetish for cat puppets, and one member slept through the entire meeting under a curtain in the corner. To top it all off, the boys' uniform is baby blue, the girl's uniform is a yellow dress that looks like a meringue, and the school is bright pink._

_Please save me._

_I'm doing fine actually. There was a little relapse a few days ago, but it's nothing. _

_Enough about me though – what about you guys? Did you get the Keeper spot for the Chudley Cannons? Did Charlie finally get a girlfriend? Has Neville been to the Amazon yet? Fred and George still going strong with the business? Bill got Rapunzel hair yet? How are the girls? Mrs Weasley? I feel like I haven't seen you all in ten years instead of._

_I'll be there for the 6__th__ of January, don't worry. I'll bring some plugs._

_Hal'_

Harry put down the ballpoint pen with a sigh and leaned back in the car seat, relaxing. Remus chuckled, still looking over a piece of paperwork that he had been handed before leaving the hospital.

"Finally done with the novel?"

"Six months of no contact really piles up, Moony."

"I know, I know. Will they understand Japanese?" said Remus, slipping his tidy sheaf of papers into his briefcase and looking out of the window at the beautiful scenery. The sky was lit up with the morning sun, and even though he had been up for an hour already, it hadn't got any less magnificent. It was earlier than Harry would normally have been travelling, but Sirius had slept in after being called out again late last night after another body had been found. He had only crawled into his bed at 7:00 this morning, so Remus had taken Harry to the hospital with him.

"Luna will definitely understand, and it's good practice for them anyway."

"You're cruel," said Remus with a laugh, and Harry grinned behind his notebook. "Anyway, thank you for coming with me to the club."

Less than half an hour ago, Remus had decided that now would be a good time to visit the host club and finish his 'payment'. Whilst Harry had paid them with a one of a kind bullet, Remus had bought plenty of Wolfsbane and muggle first-aid kits, for the werewolf host Alice. Remus was worried that he would have to drag Harry along with, but surprising the boy came willingly. He later found out that Harry came to apologise. Remus had looked away with a smile on his face when Harry had awkwardly apologised as he stood in one spot, perfectly still. Keiko and Nanami looked like they wanted to cry, and Hina did cry. Evita had laughed behind her hand and Ariane crossed her arms in amusement. Akemi herself looked as if she wanted to throw herself at Harry and give him a crushing hug, but thankfully she didn't, choosing to smile widely at him instead.

Alice had sat there, completely confused. She had been ever more confused when Remus presented her with a large cardboard box filled with glittering bottles. Alice had tried to refuse it, but Akemi had stepped in and taken the box in her steed, thanking him profusely. Remus could see the genuine joy in her dark eyes – she had obviously thought that Remus would have forgotten his promise by now.

He had sent Harry out to hail a cab, and though Harry had given him a judging look he had complied. As soon as Harry had left the building Remus pulled Akemi to the side and whispered that Harry had joined the Black Magic Club. She had raised her eyebrows then, at the speed at which his promise had been fulfilled and also at the name of the club. She had laughed when Remus flushed after she guessed that Harry's enrolment hadn't been willing, and they had said their goodbyes. He didn't doubt that they would meet again.

Now they were on the way to Harry's school, the horrendously pink school that housed both the Black Magic Club and the infamous Host Club. All in all, Remus was glad that Sirius had forced Harry to join the Black Magic Club – Harry learning how to be charming and seductive was a recipe for disaster. Let Ginny and Cho handle the seduction.

"It's fine," said Harry in response to Remus' earlier thanks, and simply turned a page in his notebook. Remus smiled, and looked out the window.

"So…" Harry raised an eyebrow, but refused to take the bait, and sat in silence. "What did you think of Haruhi-chan then?"

"…She's interesting," said Harry lowly, and Remus grinned. 'Interesting' – that was a new one. He thought she was interesting too.

He hadn't expected the Fujioka family to be made up of cross dressers, but he felt they had a more open outlook on life. Harry would probably appreciate Haruhi's blunt and accepting manner – he hadn't exactly been the golden boy in his past. The two, after their awkward beginning, really had hit it off last night, starting what Remus truly thought would be a strong friendship. The two were too alike for it not to be – both smart when they wanted to be, both cynical, both unsociable and both questioning the status quo.

It was a lucky coincidence that both of them had a love for cooking. He was touched to learn that Haruhi cooked to honour her late mother, and Sirius had to smother Ranka as he burst in tears. Harry must have been touched as well, because he falteringly told her a few snippets about his life. Obviously Harry hadn't told her anything incriminating, but he had grinned when he heard the black haired boy mention a lanky, clumsy ginger and a crazy, genius brunette.

Remus mentioned nothing of the leftovers Harry had shoved into her hands as they left, nor the fact that Haruhi offered to share some of her mother's recipes with him. Remus simply smiled, and Harry looked at him with a cold, calculating glare.

* * *

Tamaki was losing his mind.

It was arguable that he had had it in the first place, of course, but even so, he brooded behind a thick curtain of blond hair. Hikaru and Kaoru were antagonising Haruhi, as usual, who swatted them away as she tried to read the blue book Hani had given to her. The small senior had said that Potter Harry, the very Potter Harry who they had observed in the dining room, had given it to her after their 'dinner' last night. Haruhi had smiled, actually smiled, and accepted the book with a sort of reverence one expected from examining the Mona Lisa, or The Last Supper, or Tamaki.

She had told them, after much prodding, that Harry-san – Harry-san! When did Potter Harry become _Harry-san_? – had offered to lend her the book of classic fairytales after a discussion of dinner. They were not classic fairytales. If stories like Babbity Rabbity and the Cackling Stump or The Wizard's Hairy Heart were classic fairytales, Tamaki would eat his handmade, Italian leather shoes.

Lies, all of them.

Kyoya, his best friend and occasional wife, glanced over apathetically and then turned back to his laptop. Tamaki pouted.

It wasn't fair! He understood perfectly well that Haruhi, his cute daughter who was ridiculously poor, could have friends outside of the Host Club. Even if she was a cold, heartless cross dresser, Tamaki knew that something about her attracted people to her. He had good taste, after all – he could tell a Host from the crowd, and Haruhi was a Host.

But still, her friend happened to be the crazy English boy? Where was the logic in that? How did two people like that even meet? What did they have in common?

"Mom," he whined, and the dark haired boy frowned behind his laptop.

"…yes, Dad?" said Kyoya, pushing up his glasses as he continued to tap away at his keyboard.

"How is it that _he_ is friends with her?"

"By he, I assume you mean Potter-san?"

Tamaki made a face, and got up from the chair he had been lounging in, choosing to pace the length of the music room instead. Hikaru and Kaoru stared at him as he paced, but he barely noticed. "Yes! Him! That scoundrel, the one who stole away my precious daughter's virtue!"

Haruhi scowled, and hid in her chair, pretending they didn't exist.

"They only had dinner, Tamaki," Kyoya stated long-sufferingly.

"One dinner too many! And you didn't answer my question!"

"That's because you interrupted me, you French git," muttered the 'Cool' Host. "Potter-san and Haruhi are neighbours."

Tamaki froze, and then whipped round to face Kyoya. "Say that again."

Kyoya muttered something under his breath, and then clearly declared, "Potter-san and Haruhi are neighbours."

"Bu-but, Potter-san's not a commoner! Why would he live next to _Haruhi_?"

"Potter-san doesn't like rich people."

Tamaki jumped at the low, gravelly voice of Mori, who had suddenly appeared behind him. His voice had drawn the attention of Hikaru and Kaoru, who stopped prodding Haruhi, much to her relief. Instead they drifted over to where all the other Hosts had gathered.

"But isn't he rich?" asked Kaoru in confusion.

"Very rich," Kyoya raised an eyebrow as he stared at his screen, the light reflecting on his glasses. "Perhaps Hani-sempai can enlighten us."

"It's simple really! He thinks that rich people are all vain, selfish idiots." Hikaru and Kaoru blinked, and then grinned impishly.

"Do you think he's met Tono?" they said in unison, and Tamaki whacked them over the back of their heads with his hands.

"Did he say that to you?" asked Kyoya, his fingers finally pausing in their frantic typing.

"Well, no, he doesn't talk to anyone. But he mutters things under his breath, sometimes, when the girls say something."

Tamaki frowned. This boy didn't exactly sound stable. Muttering under his breath? Who did that?

"Ah," Kyoya said, a look of satisfaction taking over his face.

"The thing that confuses me," said Kaoru slowly, "is that they had dinner in the first place. I mean, I get that their neighbours, but frankly, they're both unsociable gits. What would push them into having dinner together?"

They all looked at Kyoya, who raised an eyebrow when he realised they were all staring at him. He wasn't sure if it was a good thing that they looked to him for answers. "Ask Haruhi," he said simply. The Host Club turned in unison to peer at the small, female Host who was curled up in her chair, blue book in hand. She looked up at them, and they all flinched.

"Finally decided to stop talking about me behind my back?" she asked in a bitter, icy tone. Her eyes were cold.

"Ah, Haruhi, don't be like that-"

"Shut up, you arrogant git." Tamaki recoiled in horror, and retreated to his corner.

"Haruhi, so cold! Anyway, we have a question for you-" Hikaru slung an arm around Haruhi's shoulders, and she shrugged him off with a glare.

"-why were you on a date with Potter-san last night?"

Haruhi's tone was scathing, and they all flinched at her biting words. "Why does nobody listen when I said it wasn't a date?"

"Then what was it?" demanded Hikaru. Kaoru glanced at him.

"Dinner, I told you," she said, frustration building at their interrogation.

"Is that another word for date?"

"_No_, it's another word for 'his guardians flooded my flat, so we had dinner with them as an apology'. Now _leave me alone_."

"… Lord Black and the commoner flooded your flat?"

"Sirius-san isn't a lord, and Remus-san isn't a co- … wait, how do you know who they are?"

Her eyes were narrowed now. They all froze, and Hani made awkward gestures with his hands. "Ah, well, you know…"

"We looked at his file," said Kyoya easily. Every word he spoke was truth. "His guardians are listed."

Haruhi gave them all a flat look, and then sighed. "Whatever," she said dismissively before turning back to her book. The book Potter had given her.

Tamaki couldn't take it. He leapt up from his corner and lifted Haruhi out from her chair, a manic look in his eye.

"Hey, what-"

"Haruhi, I don't trust that man!"

"Put me down!"

"Not until you see sense! That man is dangerous, he'll rip your heart in his horrid English way-"

"-you're not even making sense anymore, get off me-"

"-take us to see him! We'll beat some sense into him, tell him to keep his hands off you-"

"-don't say it like that, we're friends for god's sake-"

Mori had obviously had enough of seeing Haruhi being shaken like a doll because he reached over and took her out of Tamaki's hands. She recoiled from the French boy, who looked as if he were about to cry. The Potter boy was dangerous! Oh, Tamaki could see his plan – seduce his innocent daughter over dinner and then steal her away from her loving father! His desperation grew.

"Take us to see him!" he demanded.

"No!"

"Haruhi, it's for your own good," said Hikaru. "The dude's weird."

"You're weird!"

"If you take us to see him, I'll wipe a third off your debt," said Kyoya reasonably, with a smirk playing on his lips. Tamaki could have kissed him. Obviously Kyoya too was interested by the strange English boy.

Haruhi visibly battled with herself over her choice, her eyes darting around her, before she slumped and sighed.

"Ok, ok! I'll take you round to see him."

The Host Club cheered, and Haruhi hid her face behind her hands. "Mom, please help me…"

* * *

_**Playing: The Lonely – Christina Perri**_

* * *

**Uhhh. Hi.**

**I have no excuse, honestly. It's been resting on my USB for how long now? Nearly two months? Ouch…**

**But honestly, Tamaki's a bitch to write. Five rewrites and counting. I think I made him a little too crazy… Oh well.**

**Hope you all liked the interlude of the HP cast! I missed them.**

**In answer to my own question, a picnic, on the roof, in the middle of a summer night. I'm weird, I know.**

**QUESTION: What do you hate about yourself? I'm prepared for emotional turmoil, don't worry.**

**Cas out.**


End file.
